


Blood From Water

by Anonymous



Series: Blood, Salt, and Sun [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alpha Wade Wilson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Beta Tony Stark, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Iron Dad, M/M, Mpreg, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Peter Parker, Past Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Steve does not come back, Steve is dead at the beginning of this, Temporary Character Death, hints of future Tony Stark/Stephen Strange, minor Natasha Romanov/Clint Barton/Bruce Banner, yet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-05-18 15:13:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 49,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19337110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: After the death of his mate three years ago, Tony's main goal in life has been to drink himself to death or drive until he runs his car into the ground - whichever comes first. He didn't plan on accidentally 'adopting' some equally grief-stricken young Omega, and he certainly didn't plan to get invested in all the problems that came along with him.





	1. Prologue - Peter

**Author's Note:**

> chapter warnings: canon-typical violence, blood, character death

He couldn’t hear anyone behind them on the stairs as he burst onto the roof, but that meant nothing. There wasn’t anywhere else for them to go but up. They’d catch up to them soon enough.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Peter paced the perimeter of the roof, already knowing it was fruitless to search for another way down. A glance over the edge let him know that his theory was right - there were men surrounding the building on all sides. He grabbed Wade’s arm.

“C’mon, we’re gonna jump to the next roof.” Wade opened his mouth, but Peter cut him off. “We can make it.”

Wade grimaced, fingered his gun, and glanced back at the door.

“You go first.” He said stiffly. Peter knew Wade was more comfortable in a shootout than a parkour get away, but there just wasn’t time to think of anything else. If they stood their ground against these guys, they would lose.

Peter nodded and let go of Wade’s arm. The roof nearest to them was shorter by a full story, and there was a ledge around both roofs that they’d need to clear in the jump. Peter took a step back before he broke into a sprint and leapt.

For a moment he was falling, the air rushing past his face, stealing his breath away. The other roof seemed to be flying up toward him. At the last moment, Peter tucked his limbs in and rolled as he hit, tumbling head over heels before he came to a stop.

Peter uncurled and stood.

“Now you!” He called. The jump seemed infinitely farther now that he’d actually cleared it. He could see Wade standing by the edge, hesitating. “Come on!”

A shot rang out, echoing off the brick alley between the buildings. Peter leapt back. They’d been spotted by the men on the ground. Wade still hadn’t jumped.

“Wade!” Suddenly it felt very wrong to be so far away. He could see Wade’s trepidation in the set of his shoulders. He shouldn’t have left his mate all alone. Peter knew he couldn’t make the jump in reverse; he couldn’t have gotten back to Wade if he tried. Wade stepped back, out of Peter’s sight. “WADE!”

The man came hurtling over the edge. Peter watched as if in slow motion: Wade’s legs pinwheeling beneath him, his hoodie flaring our behind him as he fell toward Peter, and then the deafening bang of a second shot. Peter could see the pain flash across Wade’s face as everything slammed back to real time.

Wade caught the ledge hard across the ribs, scrambling against the brick to try to pull himself up the rest of the way. Peter ran to him. He seized Wade by the arms, pulling hard, but it was Peter against gravity.

“Come on,” he whispered frantically, “Come on, its ok, you’re ok.”

It wasn’t ok. The longer they spent hanging over the edge like this, the more time a gunman had time to take aim at them again. Peter could smell blood.

“Pete-“ Wade gritted through clenched teeth. Peter didn’t want to hear it. He could see now that one of Wade’s legs hung uselessly below him, blood slowly soaking through his pants. He heaved, straining to pull Wade onto the roof beside him.

Another shot cracked the air. The brick next to them exploded, sending up a shower of rock and dust. Wade flinched away from the sound, wrenching himself out of Peter’s grip.

He didn’t scream as he fell.

Peter did. The sound tore from his throat as Wade slipped from his grasp, his hands stretching out into empty air. All the breath seemed to flee from his lungs. He’d had him. He’d just had him.

But Wade could survive. It was possible, wasn’t it? It had to be. Peter stood. He leapt back as a hail of bullets hit the ground where he’d been standing. More gunmen. They’d finally made it to the other roof, shooting at him across the alley. Peter keened, lips curled back to bare his teeth, before he spun on his heel.

He ran for the stairwell. If he could get to the ground again, if he could get to Wade... Peter flew down the stairs. He could hear the thump above him of at least one of the gunmen making the jump to the other roof. Peter ground to a stop. There were voices below him, footsteps on the stairs coming up.

Peter dug his nails into his palms. He needed to get down now. He needed to get to Wade. He stood frozen in a moment of indecision, knowing that they were closing in on him from above and below. It was pointless. He couldn’t fight them all. He needed to survive to get to Wade. Peter wanted to scream. He wanted to slaughter everyone who stood between him and his mate, but he couldn’t.

Finally, he darted away from the stairs into the empty apartments. Fear stretched the seconds out as he searched for a hiding place. The footsteps seemed to be unnaturally close when Peter finally wedged himself up into an empty vent. 

It felt like hours before the sound of his pursuers finally faded. When Peter finally crawled out of his hiding place and raced to the spot where Wade had fallen, he was gone.


	2. 1: Great and Powerful Sniffer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony gains an unexpected traveling companion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: grief, passing mentions of alcoholism, suicidal ideation, mentions of human trafficking/sex abuse, Tony’s questionable internal monologue

 

The booze ran out a year ago. Maybe it was two years. Tony couldn’t keep track. The booze was gone, leaving only the dents and scrapes on his truck to prove it had been there at all. He was lucky he hadn’t totalled it completely. Or maybe supremely unlucky for not being able to drive himself off a cliff while he was blackout drunk. Go just like Steve. It would’ve been fucking poetic.

God, Steve woulda hated that.

Tony squinted at the road. The midday sun made the glare almost impossible to see through and he was having trouble keeping his eyes open regardless. Sleep was always hard to come by, but lately it had felt impossible. If Tony woke up reaching out into the empty space beside him one more time, he was going to shoot himself in the fucking head. And he couldn’t do that. Steve woulda hated that.

Tony was half tempted to do it out of spite. Hypocritical asshole. Steve would’ve had no right to get mad at him for killing himself after what  _ Steve _ had done. Take that, dumbass pretty-boy.

Tony wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it. He wasn’t stupid enough to believe in an afterlife, so it wasn’t like he had the incentive of ‘meeting again in the hereafter.’ And if Tony was dead, who would remember Steve? Practically everyone else who knew about him was dead already. And if no one remembered him… he really would be totally gone, then.

And so Tony didn’t kill himself. He sat in his truck and he drank until he ran dry and then he drove. And drove. And drove.

 

—

 

Tony had been scanning the road for hours. Stopping was dangerous, especially so near the shell of a city, but gas was more important. If stopping was dangerous, then getting stranded was deadly.

Spotting another car pulled over by the side of the road, Tony slowed, hoping it was abandoned. He could tell almost immediately that it was not. Or, if it was, that there were already people fighting over it.

The two people stood some feet away from the vehicle. The larger of the two was searching the smaller one, patting down his arms and legs. The smaller guy didn’t seem to be fighting him at all. He stood with his arms listlessly at his sides. 

The searcher found something – a small pistol – and pocketed it without a fight.

Tony slowed down further to watch. It was difficult to tell without getting out of the car, but the smaller one looked young. Maybe he was just an Omega. The corner of Tony’s mouth pulled down despite himself.  _ Or a  _ **_young_ ** _ Omega. _

The larger man’s hand shot out suddenly, grabbing the Omega by the back of the neck. Tony didn’t need to hear them to recognize the snarl that snapped over the Omega’s face as he bared his little fangs. The Omega wrenched himself free and dropped low to the ground, skittering backwards like an animal on all fours. The sight raised the hairs on Tony’s arm. Kid must be at least halfway feral.  _ The big guy trying to grab him must be a fucking idiot, _ Tony thought.  _ He  _ wouldn’t have tried to kidnap some half-feral Omega, even if he were in the business for it. It would have been more trouble than it was worth.

Apparently it was worth it for the would-be kidnapper, however. He mirrored the Omega, dropping down and baring his teeth. The two seemed to be at an impasse, the Omega poised to flee, the other man ready to pounce the second he did.

Tony should move on. Clearly he wasn’t getting any gasoline out of that car and he didn’t really want to pick any fights if he didn’t have to. 

_ That kid’s in danger. _ Fuck, it sounded like Steve.  _ Who’s gonna do something about it if you don’t? You know if you drive away he’s gonna end up dead or  _ **_worse_ ** . Tony could practically see the way Steve would’ve folded his arms stubbornly over his chest, eyebrow raised at the word ‘worse,’ like Tony didn’t  _ know _ what happened to Omegas who disappeared into the desert. Tony wanted to slam his head against the steering wheel. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t his business. Steve was gone – why did he still have to hear his voice in his head at the most inconvenient times?

Tony slammed on the brakes.

He got out, grabbed his own blaster from the passenger seat, and threw the door shut behind him with a bang that drew both strangers’ attention. Tony hefted the blaster to his shoulder, setting his jaw.

“Buddy,” he snapped, “The kid doesn’t want to get in the fucking car with you”

Tony could smell now that the bigger man was an Alpha. He growled at Tony, standing up again to glare at him.

For a moment, neither of them moved, staring each other down, measuring themselves and their guns against each other. If it had been about throwing punches, Tony would’ve lost, but he knew what his blaster could do. He’d made it himself and in terms of firepower there was no contest. The Alpha seemed to realize it too.

He spat on the ground at Tony’s feet before he climbed back into his car. Tony kept his eyes and his gun trained on the Alpha until he’d driven out of sight completely.

Tony let the gun drop from his shoulder with a sigh. What a pain in the ass. And no gas out of it either. Tony looked around for the Omega and found him on his feet a short distance away. He’d gone listless again. He might have been staring at Tony, but he just as easily might have been staring past him, out into nothing at all. 

It was totally weird.

He was smaller than Tony, but only by a couple inches. He was scrawny, with pale skin and brown hair. The knees of his jeans were ripped and he wore a printed T-shirt that was at least three sizes too large for him. Tony could smell him now too –  _ definitely  _ Omega. The pheromones rolled off him in waves. No wonder he’d attracted such attention. It wasn’t a heat smell, but there was something very intense about it. Ripe.

“Hey,” Tony called to him, brow furrowed. “You ok?”

The kid didn’t so much as blink. He continued to stare in Tony’s general direction with the most blank look Tony had ever seen.

“Kid? Are you ok?” Nothing. “Do you have a name?” Nothing.

Tony huffed through his nose. Whatever. The kid was probably half-feral anyway and at least he wasn’t about to get kidnapped now. That should be enough for the Steve in his head.  _ There’s my good deed for the day, you fucking happy? _ Tony turned back to the truck.

He just barely caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. The Omega’s head whipped toward the car. For the first time his expression changed, slipping into something eerily intense. He didn’t move quickly, but he was deliberate as he approached Tony’s truck.

Tony was dumbfounded. He could do nothing but watch the young Omega climb into his backseat and head straight for the duffle bag where Tony kept most of his food.

“What the fuck…” Tony said softly, more to himself than anything else. Did he even exist to this kid? Was he so far gone that he didn’t register that Tony was even a person? One who’d just saved his skin, no less, and one who could certainly kill him for trying to rob him. Although if that’s what the kid was doing, it was such a sorry attempt that Tony couldn’t bring himself to feel threatened.

“Smells sweet.” The kid’s voice was just as creepy as his blank stare – high and raspy with disuse. Mystified, Tony let the Omega rummage through his supplies without complaint.

Finally, he seemed to find what he was looking for: a can of pineapple. The Omega stared, open-mouthed, breath caught in his throat. And then, as Tony watched, his eyes watered. His face crumpled. He  _ wailed _ . Tony shifted awkwardly while the young Omega curled in on himself, sobbing incoherently and giving no sign that he was going to get out of Tony’s backseat. The waves of pheromones were tinged with misery now, and Tony could feel them tugging at his heartstrings despite himself.

“Ok,” Tony breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to think. “Ok, there has got to be something wrong with you. Kid? Hey, kid, can you hear me?”

The Omega continued his meltdown, still giving no acknowledgement that he was even aware Tony existed. Tony ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t just  _ stay  _ here, out in the open like this, but the idea of bringing this incoherent mess of an Omega with him was Less Than Appealing. Tony closed the door on the Omega and climbed into the driver’s seat to think.

Slowly, the sobbing quieted. It didn’t stop – Tony didn’t think it would stop for some time – but it was punctuated now with little whimpers and snatches of words. Tony turned in his seat to look back at the kid, trying to make out anything recognizable. It could have just been total babbling, with how far gone he seemed to be.

“Wade… Wade…”

Tony stiffened then turned away. His heart was suddenly pounding. He turned the key in the ignition. He needed to be moving. He needed to drive. The road seemed to fly under his wheels, the scenery so unchanging that they might not have been moving at all. Tony hardly noticed it.

This Omega wasn’t feral. He was grief-stricken. Tony was surprised he didn’t recognize it sooner. After all, he’d been in nearly the same condition after…

Tony pushed the thought away. 

His heart wouldn’t stop beating like it was trying to break his ribs. It was terrifying to be so close to someone else’s grief. Tony had just barely pulled himself out of that particular bottomless pit of despair. Watching someone else grieve was like trying to swim while having weights tied around his ankles. He could feel the grief, heavy, ready to pull him back under the second he stopped moving. And he couldn’t. He couldn’t go through that again.

He listened as the Omega slowly stopped crying and felt some relief when his breathing finally fell into the easier rhythm of sleep.

 

\--

 

Tony had never slept well. Having a stranger in his backseat only made it worse. He was awake to watch the kid come to himself in the morning. 

It would have made sense if the kid had shown any sign of alarm at waking up in an unfamiliar car, but he didn’t. The Omega pushed himself up slowly and took in the car with vacant hooded eyes.

“Hey,” Tony said. The kid didn’t say anything. Tony might as well have been part of the upholstery for all that he seemed to notice him. Only when he looked down at the can in his hand did he seem to jolt a little closer to alertness.

Tony watched him wordlessly replace the can in its bag and push the entire thing as far away from him as possible.

“You got a name, kid?” Tony tried again. The Kid needed to stop it with the haunted zombie look or Tony was going to lose his shit. “I’m Tony.”

Still, nothing, just those blank brown eyes. Tony took a deep breath. “You, uh, headed somewhere? How old are you anyway, are you old enough to be out on your own like this?”

The Omega watched him the way one might watch a chittering mouse: observant without any sort of understanding. Something occurred to Tony.

“Oh, wait, are you deaf? Shit, I’m gonna feel like a real asshole if it turns out you just can’t hear me.” Tony rubbed at his chin. He racked his brain, trying to think of how to sign his good intentions without knowing any sign language.

“Peter.” It was so soft and so hoarse that Tony didn’t immediately recognize the sound.

“What?”

The Omega cleared his throat slowly, deliberately.

“Peter.”

“Ok… ok. Hi, Peter, I’m Tony.” The first flicker of emotion seemed to dart across Peter’s face. Annoyance. Yeah, fair. Tony didn’t know how old he was (maybe twenty at the oldest) but he was definitely older than the slow tone Tony had used. He was young adult, not a five-year-old. Tony tried again.

“Are you going anywhere?” Peter shrugged. Irritation began to creep in. Tony knew why Peter was acting like this (at least, he was pretty sure why), but it was still fucking annoying to be on the receiving end of it.

“Yeah, me neither,” he muttered, more to himself than to his guest.

For a moment they sat in silence, Peter staring vacantly out the window. Tony felt at a loss for what to do or say next. Part of him wanted to say good luck and happy trails and leave this miserable kid where he’d found him. What did Tony know about being a traveling companion – or about interacting with someone who made him feel so old? And Tony was definitely not the guy to come to when you were broken the way Peter seemed to be; Tony was still broken himself. He knew jack shit about putting things back together that weren’t cars or guns.

But then there was Steve. Steve in the back of his head who just couldn’t let these things go. Steve would have been able to find a way to get through to this kid. He would have gone all grim and serious if he heard Tony thinking about leaving him on the side of the road.  _ He’s got nowhere to go, Tony. He’s practically a child. You saw the kind of thing that could happen to him _ . Tony swallowed hard. Fuck Steve. Fuck that stolid determination to save every single person.

Tony sighed deeply. Fuck Steve for staying under his skin like this.

“Listen, kid…” Tony started, “If you don’t have anywhere to go… I need someone to switch off sleeping and driving with me.”

A second emotion bubbled onto Peter’s face. Confusion.

“I can’t keep watch while I sleep. It would be good to have a second lookout. You watch my back while I sleep and I’ll watch yours. Plus sharing the driving would be better for my back.” Wow he sounded old saying that, no matter how true it was.

But Peter seemed to actually be considering his words, which was more than he’d gotten out of him so far. Finally he nodded.

“Cool,” Tony said, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Great. Uh. Ok.”

“I can’t drive.” The second thing Peter had spoken to him. Tony just barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Of course, he couldn’t. Why would anything ever be that easy?

“Luckily, that’s something I can teach you.”

\--

“- no ease onto the break.” Tony stressed, gesturing with his hand some hours later. “Smooth. Like you’re depressing a plunger.”

“Maybe some of us have never  _ done _ that,  _ Tony _ ,” Peter grumbled quietly. The stress of learning a new skill seemed to have loosened Peter’s tongue some, even if he had yet to lose that slightly haunted look. Distracting Peter from his emotional turmoil, however, was making Tony nauseous.

“Well then  _ imagine _ what it would be like, Jesus!” He huffed. “Look we’re back on the main road now, so it’s just smooth sailing from here, ok? Shift up a gear – no you have to push the button on the side of the shift, no, the other side – yes, exactly. There you go. Now just point and go. Got it?”

Peter mumbled some agreement.

“Great, wake me up if something happens or you need to switch.” Tony began to climb into the backseat, earning some more grumbling from Peter as he clambered over the center console. “But, don’t need to switch, mkay?”

\--

It felt like it had only been a few minutes when he felt something lightly slapping at his side. He groaned unhappily.

“Hey,” Quiet, raspy, young-sounding. Oh right. The kid. Tony sat up. The light had changed significantly outside. It must have been hours since he fell asleep. Tony yawned and leaned over the center console.

“Whassup, kiddo?” Peter wrinkled his nose at the name before tapping the dashboard to show Tony.

“Low on gas.”

“Ugh. So we are.” Tony rubbed his face to wake himself up further and climbed back into the passenger seat. “Ok, keep your eyes peeled for anything promising: abandoned cars, old gas stations, that sort of thing. We’ll pay someone if we’ve gotta but I’d rather not.”

People who sold gasoline never sold it cheap and, in Tony’s experience, rarely acquired their stock through respectable means.

“Don’t have any money anyway,” Peter shrugged in agreement.

After about fifteen minutes, the recognizable blue and red V’s of a gas station sign appeared some ways down the road.

Tony instructed Peter how to slow the car to a stop, earning him even more petulant grumbling. Apparently a couple hours on an empty highway made an expert out of the kid. Fucking teenager. Well, probably. He still hadn’t gotten an age out of Peter.

The sun was still brutal when Tony hopped out of the car. He was quick to duck into the shade of the corrugated tin canopy. When Peter didn’t immediately join him, Tony glanced over his shoulder at him. The Omega was still sitting in the car with the door open. Reluctantly, Tony stepped back out into the sun, walking around to the driver’s side to check on him.

“What?” He asked, trying not to sound short. Peter was frowning, brows furrowed. His nose twitched.

“It’s empty.”  He said finally.

“What?” Tony repeated.

“There’s no gas left.” Peter gestured to the fuel pumps. From this angle, they looked like little more than enormous dark bricks in the shadow of the canopy. Tony raised an eyebrow.

“You’re just saying that because we haven’t found any yet,” he said, trying to sound confident. If he was honest, Peter’s kind of strange wide-eyed, not-all-there, vaguely-psychic thing was still a little creepy, but Tony didn’t want to admit to being unnerved by someone who was probably half his age. “Come on, pull the car under the awning. Get it out of the sun before it gets too hot.”

Peter obeyed with only a small scowl in Tony’s direction. He did not help, however, once he’d moved the car. Instead he watched Tony from inside the car while he poked and prodded at the different pumps. It was true that the place was obviously abandoned – rust and old graffiti slowly reclaiming the columns and pumps, brave scraggly weeds colonizing cracks in the cement – but Tony had found fuel in less promising places before.

Still, even he had to admit defeat eventually.

Peter had settled himself a little smugly in the passenger seat, encouraging Tony to drive. He didn’t say _ I told you so _ , but Tony could sense that he must be thinking it.

“That’s some nose you got on you, kid,” Tony relented after a few minutes’ awkward silence. Pride appeased, Peter’s shoulders relaxed.

“Didn’t use to be,” he admitted diplomatically, “Feels new.”

The next gas station they found, some miles later, was equally abandoned. An empty car sat near one of the pumps, looking like it hadn’t been moved from that spot in months. Tony pulled into the station and turned to Peter with a little smirk before he got out.

“What’s the sniffer say about this one?”

Peter took an overly dramatic sniff.

“It says  _ some _ of us haven’t taken a bath yet this month.” He deadpanned. He locked eyes with Tony for a long second before the corner of his mouth twitched and he shrugged.

“None in the pumps. Maybe in the other car.”

Tony shook his head, entertained despite himself.

“Go take a look in the shop. See if there’s anything left.” Tony told him. The convenience store attached to the gas station had undoubtedly been picked over many times before, but there might still be something useable.

While Peter scavenged, Tony went over the pumps again. Sure enough, they were dry as the surrounding desert, but when Tony checked the tank of the abandoned car, he was able to syphon off a decent amount of gasoline.P

The tires of the abandoned car had been slashed, Tony noticed. That must have been why the travelers had come to a stop, rather than running out of fuel. The car looked like it had been more or less untouched for some time, but if there  _ was _ someone nearby who liked slashing tires, Tony didn’t want to stick around to find out.

Luckily Peter returned only minutes later. He’d found a few bottles of seltzer (which were almost certainly flat), and a couple snack-packs of salted sunflower seeds, still sealed in their plastic.

—

 

Dinner somehow felt like more of an occasion than usual when they finally stopped for the night. Tony couldn’t remember the last time he’d shared a meal with someone else. He pulled out a few cans and some of the sunflower seeds and divided them between him and Peter.

They spoke little while they ate. Or rather, while  _ Tony  _ ate. It took him several minutes to notice that Peter hadn’t touched much of the food. He was nibbling at the sunflower seeds, sucking the salt off the shells one by one, but hadn’t even opened the can.

“Go on,” Tony prompted, feeling a little annoyed. He didn’t  _ have  _ to share his food with this kid. And Peter wasn’t in much position to be turning it down. Peter wrinkled his nose.

“Can’t.” He told him. “Smells bad.”

Tony frowned and reached for the can in question. He took a sniff, but only smelled the tin. He cracked the lid and took another long whiff. Canned chili didn’t smell  _ great, _ that was fair enough, but Tony didn’t think it smelled  _ bad. _ Certainly not rotten or expired or anything.

“Seems fine to me,” Tony said, trying to hand can back, but Peter wouldn’t take it. Annoyed into determination, Tony made sure Peter watched him take a big bite before trying again to give it back. “See? No harm done.”

Peter looked unconvinced, but he took the can back nonetheless. In the end though, he could only get through about half of it before he claimed he was too full to eat another bite. Without any good way to store it, Tony ended up eating the rest of it so it didn’t go to waste.

He took the first watch, letting Peter crawl into the backseat to catch a few hours’ sleep before they swapped.

Alone for the first time in nearly two days, Tony wasn’t above admitting that it was nice to have a break from the kid. He was weird, with his blank staring eyes and his psychic nose. And he was kind of annoying, making Tony do all the work to start conversations, and grumbling about half the things Tony did or said, and now turning down perfectly good food. Seriously, who could afford to be such a picky eater these days? What a waste!

Tony let himself worry over rations and work divisions until his shift was over and Peter came to switch with him. He was still running figures and trying to convince himself that having a companion was an annoyance when he finally drifted off to sleep.


	3. 2: Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a close call with some territorial scrappers, Tony makes an educated guess about his new companion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: vomit (not graphic), gun violence (not graphic), Tony having questionable moral character/internal ableist dialogue

Tony woke to the sound of Peter retching. The smell hit him a moment later and he swallowed hard to keep off a wave of nausea at the stench.

 

“I told you it smelled bad,” Peter complained.

 

“Guess so,” Tony said with at least a little guilt. After all, he was the one who pressured Peter into eating bad chili, apparently. He didn’t stop Peter when he reached for some of their precious water to rinse his mouth with.

 

Tony took the first shift driving as an apology.

 

They’d been on the road for a few hours when Peter spoke again.

 

“You’re a Beta, aren’t you?”

 

Tony frowned. It was sort of a personal question, but it was also the first time that Peter had tried to start a conversation just for the sake of talking.

 

“Uh, yeah,” he said, not taking his eyes off the road. Peter made a hum of acknowledgement, falling silent again for a moment.

 

“I thought you might have been a Delta at first.” He offered. Yesterday’s annoyance with the kid was beginning to creep back in. Why did he have to pick this as the first topic of conversation?

 

“Oh yeah?” He said, trying to make it obvious through his tone how little he cared for the subject.

 

“Yeah. Your scent was really neutral. But it’s been a little more Alpha lately.” Tony huffed through his nose.

 

“Yeah, well, what do you expect if I’m stuck in the car with a miserable Omega all day?” Tony growled, only to regret it when he smelled the wave of disappointment rolling off Peter. God, he’d never met anyone who projected their pheromones as strongly as this kid. Tony sighed. ”Ugh. I haven’t swung Alpha in years.”

 

Tony would have to watch himself, try to step out of the car and away from Peter more often. He would definitely be risking a rut if he kept up this level of close contact with an Omega who seemed to have as little control over their pheromones as Peter did. Tony nearly flinched at the thought. Not only would it be inconvenient, but it could possibly be quite dangerous for everyone involved if he did end up in a rut. It would be easier to maintain a healthy distance and try to avoid the whole thing all together.

 

—-

 

The days began to blur together. They drove. They scavenged. They slept. Sometimes they spoke, but not always. Tony let Peter pick his own food after the chili incident and was surprised by how little he ended up eating. He’d figured that Peter was a picky eater, but he’d assumed that he would eventually cave to hunger and become less particular as time went on. Occasionally this was true, although Peter almost always complained about it smelling off before he ate it, and was almost always sick a few hours later. Sometimes he was sick anyway, even if he hadn’t complained before hand.

 

When Tony failed to get sick, despite eating from the same food sources, he began to suspect some underlying gut issue: hopefully just a sensitivity or an allergy that Peter wasn’t aware of. If it was anything more serious then the kid was probably shit out of luck. Doctors were few and far between and adequate medical facilities were even rarer.

 

Peter’s condition, however, neither improved nor declined, and eventually Tony stopped thinking about it. It became another of Peter’s quirks, like his long silences and his sharp nose.

 

—

 

It was another week before Tony decided they needed to make a longer stop. They had made little pit stops with some frequency, but they never stayed longer than they had to. But now that Peter seemed like he was going to become at least a semi-permanent fixture in Tony’s life, Tony decided that the kid should do more than just drive and watch.

 

He wanted Peter to have a weapon. Not a piece of shit gun where he could run out of bullets, but one of Tony’s inventions. Something light enough not to slow him down but hefty enough to provide decent protection. For that, however, they needed parts, and Tony wasn’t willing to dismantle any of his own equipment to get them.

 

The town, when they reached it, seemed to creep up on them slowly: a house here, and a house there…  a street sign… the buildings drew gradually closer together until suddenly they were in a little knot of streets.

 

Tony slowed the car to a crawl, peering down side streets and up deserted driveways. Twice they stopped to rummage through a dumpster, but came up with little of any use.

 

Tony didn’t like moving so slowly. It made him feel like an easy target. He knew there were still people living here, somewhere; the town wouldn’t have been picked so clean otherwise. There were signs that, while in disrepair, buildings had not been completely abandoned: tape on a cracked window, clothes lines stretched between buildings, extra locks bolted over front doors.

 

And yet they saw no one while they combed the streets for scrap. Maybe it wasn’t so strange. Most people passing through probably weren’t friendly - Tony wasn’t even sure if he and Peter qualified as ‘friendly.’ It was probably safer for the residents to keep out of sight of any strangers, regardless of their intentions.

 

It felt as though they’d searched nearly every inch of the town with very little to show for it, when Tony finally caught sight of it.

 

“Um. It says keep out?” Peter said when Tony showed no sign of turning back.

 

“Wow, you can read?” Tony shouldn’t tease. Literacy was becoming scarcer.

 

The sign on the open gate did say ‘keep out’, complete with a skull and crossbones beneath it. The yard was loosely surrounded by a chain link fence, but the fence was bent and rusted in places and Tony could see a few sections had been torn clean away.

 

“My parents taught me,” Peter said before shaking himself and frowning. “Not the point! Point being, maybe not driving into the off-limits scrap yard?”

 

“Come on, Peter,” Tony rolled his eyes. “They didn’t even close the gate. Who knows the last time someone was here? This place could be totally empty. It’s not like we saw anyone else around town.”

 

Tony’s excuses were flimsy and he knew it, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn around without even getting a _look_ at this virtual paradise.

 

It was a dump. More accurately, it was a scrap yard, but it was the biggest, fullest, most beautiful scrap yard Tony had ever seen. It was full of broken furniture: couches with the stuffing spilling out, refrigerators with their doors missing, bedsprings, cracked air conditioning units, and too many bits of pipes and screws and washers and wires to count. It was a mechanic’s dream. Tony didn’t think he’d ever seen so much in one place before, not since before he’d left his father’s house. He was practically salivating. If he had an ounce less self control, he’d have been hard as a rock thinking about everything he could build with all this.

 

Tony parked the car near the center of the yard, driving between huge piles of junk, as tall as small buildings. Even Peter seemed to let go of a little of his anxiety, unable to quite resist the draw of such a treasure trove.

 

Tony quickly described the parts he was looking for as he got out before jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

 

“You go that way, I’ll go this way. Meet back here in a bit.”

 

“Don’t go out of shouting distance,” Peter warned, but Tony flapped his hand nonchalantly.

 

“It’ll be fine. I got my baby.” Tony said with a smirk, hoisting his favorite blaster.

 

“Yeah, but _I_  don’t.”

 

“Touché. Scream if you need something.” Tony began tromping off to one of the nearest piles. “But, y’know, don’t need anything, m’kay?”

 

He could practically hear Peter rolling his eyes as he started off in the other direction.

 

—

 

Tony lost himself in the work of sorting through everything. He wouldn’t call this ‘happy’, but it was the closest he’d come in a long, _long_ time.

 

His hands were filthy, covered in grease and rust and dirt, but his pockets were full of little pieces of wire and old batteries and - most exciting - half of an old phone with most of the components intact.

 

He could have sworn it had only been a few minutes, when a sound shook him from his reverie.

 

Tony turned his head toward the sound of shifting rubble. Peter, always serious-looking to begin with, was grim faced as he clambered over the junk piles toward him. Tony’s heart sank at that look.

 

“What? You _smell_ something again?” It came out a little more derisive than Tony meant, but Peter didn’t seem to notice or care. He nodded.

 

“Bad. Like people.” Tony wanted to groan and shake his head. It was so vague and it could be anything. He ground his teeth.

 

“Anything else?” He snapped. _Any great calamity not already befallen us that we should know about? Can you tell my fortune with that thing, oh great sniffer?_ Tony chewed at his cheek to keep from saying any of this.

 

“It’s just bad. Like—hungry.” Peter’s stance shifted, defensive, ready to fight Tony on this. “We should go.”

 

Tony wavered another moment. The piles of junk were beautiful; it was like finding a dragon’s hoard - maybe even better since he could do a lot more with these bits and pieces of metal than he could with gold at the moment. He didn’t want to leave. The proud part of him didn’t want to take the word of some paranoid kid. But that was the problem; Peter wasn’t paranoid. His nose hadn’t led them astray yet and he didn’t startle as easily as Tony expected him too.

 

“Are you sure?” He finally asked, almost whining, not wanting it to be true.

 

“Yes.” There was no hesitation.

 

It felt like it took every ounce of willpower in him to put down the scrap he was looking at and follow Peter back to the car. It was almost like grief, having to leave the yard behind. He might never find another scavenging ground that good. They might never be back this way again. And they were leaving on nothing more than a hunch.

 

Tony was stalling. He sat behind the wheel, fingering the key while he looked longingly at the piles of metal.

 

“Come on,” Peter urged.

 

Tony started the car and began pulling backward.

 

Suddenly one of the piles near them seemed to burst, sending up a shower of sparks and bits of metal with a bang. Peter recoiled in his seat with a yelp, twisting around to see what had happened.

 

“There!” He pointed, as though Tony could have missed the Jeep rounding the corner of another pile. It was roofless, and Tony could see another pair inside: one manning the wheel, the other standing, bracing himself against the frame to steady himself while he took aim again with a large rifle.

 

Tony swore, swerving to avoid driving straight into them. He spun the wheel, turning them to face the opposite direction - away from their assailants, but away from the gate too. He slammed on the gas, making Peter fling out his arms to brace himself against the dashboard.

 

He could hear the Jeep peeling after them - hear another round of shots punch through metal somewhere in the back of their truck. Tony set his jaw.

 

Peter didn’t make a sound as Tony wove the car between piles of trash, looking for another way out.

 

“Peter, get my gun.” He snapped. They weren’t helpless yet, but they’d be doing a lot better if they weren’t just _letting_ these guys tear Tony’s truck apart. “Fire back, get them off our ass.”

 

Peter hesitated. Tony didn’t know if it was from fear or an unwillingness to kill, but he didn’t care. The rear window shattered, broken glass flying in all directions.

 

“Peter!”

 

The kid jumped into action, slipping over the center console into the back seat and grabbing one of Tony’s blasters. Tony tore his eyes away from the rear view mirror to watch where he was going.

 

The Jeep was trailing them closely now, far too close for comfort, but it meant one crucial thing: if they were tailgating him and Peter, then they _weren’t_ blocking the gate. He heard the unmistakable sound of his blaster firing. Flame seemed to burst from one of the nearby piles in response. The second shot was closer, forcing the Jeep to swerve to avoid it. Bullets pinged against the frame of Tony’s truck and Peter ducked below the seat, waiting for another opening to pop up and take aim again.

 

There was the gate: open, unguarded. Tony slammed on the gas, sending them flying out of the junkyard and back into the deserted town. At least, he hoped it was still deserted. Tony didn’t think he could slow down enough to avoid a pedestrian if one suddenly appeared, and bullets and blasts were still flying.

 

There was a sudden loud pop, and the screech of tires against asphalt. Tony tried to look in his rearview to see what had happened, but the streets were too narrow and curved – at this speed, he couldn’t afford to look away.

 

They pulled out of town in a cloud of dust and burning rubber, the desert whipping by in a blur of reddish dirt and scrubby plants.

 

It took a while for Tony to realize he hadn’t heard gunshots in several minutes. Or shots from his blaster. Or anything from Peter.

 

“You ok?” Tony couldn’t spare even a sideways glance at Peter, but he could hear him. He was gasping like he was drowning. He didn’t answer.

 

“Pete, are you ok? Did you get hit?” Panic spiked through him. He chanced a look but didn’t see any blood. “What’s the matter?”

 

Peter lurched in his seat, a hand rising to his throat.

 

“Pull over.”

 

Tony didn’t know if they were in the clear yet, but he brought the car skidding to a stop anyway. Even before they’d come to a full stop, Peter was throwing open the car door and stumbling out into the sand. Tony hadn’t even rounded the car when he heard the unmistakable sound of retching. He paused just a moment, disgust warring with concern, before catching Peter by the shoulders.

 

The kid shook violently, coughing and gagging a few more times, but there was nothing left in his system to purge. Tony ran his hands quickly down his arms, over his back, through his hair. He couldn’t find any sign of a wound, but Peter was still breathing like he’d run a marathon.

 

“Ok,” he said quickly, “It’s ok. You’re ok. You’re ok, Pete.”

 

He still had no idea what the cause was. Tony didn’t think it was just nerves, but what did he know? He’d only known Peter for a few weeks.

 

Tony pulled open the back door and started bundling Peter into the backseat. After his outburst, he went pliantly.

 

It wasn’t what Tony would have liked; he was shit at offering any kind of comfort, but even he wouldn’t immediately try to shut the kid down like this if he didn’t have to. Tony didn’t trust their lead over their pursuers though, and he wasn’t going to let them get killed just because Peter was losing his lunch over… something.

 

The car was silent while they drove. Tony pressed them harder and later than he normally might have, wanting to put as much distance between them and those people as possible. On another night, Tony might have insisted that Peter take a shift behind the wheel, but glancing at him in the rearview mirror, Tony decided against it. Peter was glassy-eyed, staring into space. Exactly how he’d been when Tony met him, he realized after a while. Vacant.

 

—

 

The sun had set when Tony finally pulled off the road and circled them close to a rocky outcrop for the night. Peter had barely moved from where Tony had settled him in the backseat. Unsure how to approach him, Tony decided to avoid the kid altogether.

 

Tony grabbed a can of black beans from their stock and settled on top of the rocks to take first watch. He’d go back down in a few hours when it got too cold to be exposed like this, but he’d give Peter his space for now. Tony pointedly ignored that avoiding him might be more for his own benefit than for Peter’s.

 

From his lookout post, Tony wondered again if he’d made a mistake keeping the kid around. Peter had definitely been swaying toward feral when he met him, but what if it ran deeper than that? What if there was just something wrong with him? If there was a situation where they needed to act quickly and Peter was immovable, Tony could practically be signing his own death warrant to stick with him.

 

It was too late to abandon him now, though. Tony didn’t particularly like it, but he’d gotten attached. It wouldn’t be easy to let Peter go now, even if his life depended on it.

 

Tony took a deep breath. He was just buying trouble for himself by worrying about it now. They weren’t in any more peril than usual at the moment. And those times when they had been, Peter actually _had_ kept his head. He’d saved his meltdowns for after the worst danger had passed.

 

Later, when the beans were gone and the can was empty, Tony smelled Peter approach. The boy settled beside him without a word. They sat in silence for some time, watching the stars and the poorly illuminated landscape.

 

To Tony’s surprise, Peter broke the silence first.

 

“It’s how they got Wade.” His voice was soft and small again in a way it hadn’t been since Tony met him. He drew his knees up to his chest, glancing at Tony to gauge his reaction. For a moment, Tony’s mind drew a blank on the name.

 

“Your mate?” He said finally. Peter nodded.

 

“My Alpha.” He looked away.

 

“We thought we were safe. But they followed us home. A big gang like that, with the- the- big X symbol. We had to jump and I made it and Wade-“ Tony could hear his breath going ragged, his voice tightening. He almost wanted to tell Peter to stop, but sick curiosity kept him quiet. “He fell and I couldn’t- I couldn’t catch him and I couldn’t get to him and I couldn’t- I couldn’t—“

 

His voice clamped down on itself. Tony could barely see him in the dark but he didn’t need to to know that he was shaking. For one terrifying moment, Tony thought he was going to join Peter in his grief; _he fell, I couldn’t catch him, I couldn’t do anything – Steve._ Tony caught himself, reaching out to grab Peter by the arms without thinking. He startled in Tony’s grasp but didn’t pull away.

 

“Stop it. You can’t.” He could feel the shift in Peter’s body language, grief giving way to outrage. Tony shook him gently. “You can’t afford to fall apart, kid. You’ll die.”

 

The words did nothing to soothe Peter, but the boy didn’t say anything, so Tony took a deep breath to continue.

 

“Look, I know how bad it hurts. I know. I _know_. It makes you want to die. It’s like someone fucking killed you and your body didn’t get the memo to die. But you can’t, ok? You just— can’t.”

 

Tony’s throat felt tight. He was glad to be holding on to Peter, not trusting his hands not to shake if he let go. God damn it. It was the most he’d even _alluded_ to Steve to anyone since… And he’d sounded so invested in this kid’s survival. _Because he was,_ Tony realized uncomfortably. He didn’t want to think about why it mattered so much that Peter didn’t die. It made his skin prickle uncomfortably.

 

He’d made some kind of silent promise to himself after Steve that he wasn’t going to do this again, he wasn’t going to get attached again. He’d done so fucking well at it until this kid showed up.

 

Slowly, Tony let go. Peter didn’t move. They fell back into silent thought, neither of them expecting such an emotional outburst.

 

If he was going to get attached to anyone, it sort of made sense that it was someone like Peter. Tony knew first hand the kind of bullshit he was going through. And, god, it was true. Losing a mate… it really did make you want to die. Tony knew he’d been half out of his mind with grief for the better part of a year before he started coming back to himself. Just wandering. Eating when there was food because that’s what you did with food but not caring when or what or how much. An unending sort of numbness interrupted by fits of devastation. Peter had been that way when they met.

 

Now that he was thinking about it, though, Tony felt less sure. Everyone grieved differently, but Peter’s ‘numbness’ seemed like the exception rather than the rule. His sense of smell was remarkable. Tony couldn’t remember if he’d smelled anything in that first year, but Peter was so sensitive he could smell whether or not there was gasoline left at a station without checking the pumps. And he was so particular about food. Tony had eaten whatever was in front of him without thinking, but Peter rejected food sometimes even when they had it. And he only seemed to be able to keep about half of it down anyway. And he did broadcast pretty heavily with his pheromones, more so than other people Tony had met…

 

The gears in Tony’s head began to churn. And then, quite suddenly, clicked easily into place. He couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath at the realization. But now that he’d thought of it, Tony was almost certain he was right. He swallowed.

 

“So… how far along are you?” Peter’s head snapped toward him. Tony was right; the alarm just rolled off Peter, unmistakable.

 

“What?” He asked sharply.

 

“When are you due?”

 

“I’m not- I don’t-“ The alarm shifted to fear and Peter stood abruptly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

He practically ran back to the car before Tony had the chance to throw another word in edgewise. Tony let out a long breath.

 

Surely, if he was far enough along that someone could pick up on it after just a few weeks, Peter must have already known. There was always a chance Tony was wrong, but he didn’t think he was. He was almost completely certain that his new partner in crime was pregnant.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it was unclear in the chapter:  
> Alpha and Omega genes are both dominant. If someone carries both an Alpha and Omega gene, they are able to express both characteristics (though not at the same time) depending on how they are affected by environmental factors. These are my Betas. There is also a recessive gene that does not express any secondary sex traits, called Delta. Both Alphas and Omegas are able to carry this gene without it being expressed. Deltas only present when they carry neither Alpha nor Omega genes, but rather, two Delta genes.  
> If folks would like me to expand on this further (anatomy, fertility, etc) in chapter notes, drop me a comment, but that info is not needed to understand the rest of the story, so feel free to imagine whatever you want otherwise.


	4. 3. The Rut.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony finds himself in a compromising position.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Tony's questionable internal dialogue, abortion mention, teen pregnancy (sort of??), brief nsfw mention, allusions to rape (not graphic - none occurs), discussions of Tony/Peter (not graphic - none occurs), animal death (to avoid, skip the paragraph beginning "He sweat and he whined")

The silence continued almost uninterrupted in the following days. Tony had spent months in silence before, when he’d been on his own. He hadn’t cared then. It was unnerving to care now.

What if he was wrong? That shouldn’t be the end of the world. No baby, no problems. Peter was clearly upset with him, but Tony didn’t know why. Maybe it was just embarrassment at the accusation.

But what if he was right? That night when Tony had asked, he hadn’t thought farther than piecing the evidence together, but now… What if Peter  _ was  _ pregnant? Jesus, how old was this kid anyway? Old enough to have a mate, but that didn’t mean much these days. People died young so they paired off young. He’d been easily picturing Peter around twenty, but now he seemed to look younger every time Tony looked at him. Had Wade been the same age as him? Or was he older? Had he been taking advantage of Peter? If he hadn’t, shouldn’t Peter have done something to stop this from happening?

And what did it mean for him, for Tony? He hadn’t signed up to become some kind of weird mentor-figure to a random broken teen. He definitely hadn’t signed up to provide for him and his ill-begotten child.  Tony didn’t know much about being a mentor, but he knew absolutely nothing about babies. God, he could get them all killed because he was ignorant about how to handle an infant.

Tony felt hyper aware of Peter in those days, looking too carefully at everything he did, looking for signs to confirm or deny the theory. He couldn’t tell. It was all too circumstantial.

He could feel Peter pulling away from him in response, turning in on himself to get away from Tony’s prying eyes, from embarrassment or shame. It was surprising to find that it hurt, but Tony didn’t dare reach out first.

On the evening of the fourth day, Peter spoke. Tony was driving. Peter sat in the passenger seat beside him, his feet braced up on the dashboard. Tony couldn’t help but think it made him look even younger.

“You’re right.” He said suddenly. Tony looked over, startled after days of silence. Peter kept his eyes straight ahead. Tony could smell the fear creeping into his scent.

“I wasn't sure- I mean- I didn’t want to think about it.” He continued, stilted. “But it’s kinda starting to- to show. Just a little.”

Tony instantly glanced downward, but saw nothing. Peter’s oversized shirt hid any evidence, at least to Tony’s eyes.

“I think it’s like three months maybe… Maybe a little more.” Peter chewed his lip, glancing over at Tony. It was Tony’s turn to stare at the road. It felt like his ears were ringing. He’d been thinking about this possibility for days, but hearing it confirmed was something else. It felt like something had wrapped around his torso and begun to squeeze, clenching his heart and turning his stomach. Something must have showed on his face because Peter’s hackles went up instantly.

“I’m keeping it.” He snapped. Tony jerked out of his panic.

“Whoa, what the hell, no one said anything about getting rid of it!” Tony shot back, but his heart was hammering. “Keep your pup, I don’t care.”

Except that he did care. Panic, he finally realized, that was the emotion clawing at his chest. And now that Peter had said it, there was a part of Tony that rebelled.  _ No, get rid of it, get rid of it and make this go away. I want this to stop being real. _

 

Despite the confession, Peter’s silence was still far from comfortable. There was more, Tony could tell, but he almost didn’t want to hear it. He heard Peter swallow loudly.

“So… can I stay?” He asked finally.

“What?”  Tony blinked in confusion.

“Can I stay? With you. In the car.”

The fight drained out of Tony in an instant. Panic disintegrated into guilt. God, he was the worst. He might not have meant to get into this situation, but there was no denying that Peter was relying on him now. Here Tony was, leaving this already distraught kid in suspense for days about whether he’d have a safe place to sleep because  _ Tony _ was upset that he  _ might _ be pregnant with his dead mate’s kid. He’d been assuming Peter would-  _ should _ be ashamed of his situation, when really Peter was just worried about surviving. Jesus, what was wrong with Tony?

“Yeah.” Tony knew his voice was tight, trying to swallow his shame. “Yeah, of course. We’ll… we’ll figure it out.”

The quiet relief that rolled off Peter at his words was almost enough to make it better.

“You sure about this?” He asked a few minutes later. Peter’s answer was instant.

“Yes. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know what I want.”

\--

Tony had thought that after they talked, some of his hyper-vigilance surrounding Peter would relax. He was wrong. Tony felt as though he couldn’t sit still, like there was sand stuck under his skin. It kept him from resting comfortably and it made him increasingly irritable. Tony knew it was getting bad when he started snapping at Peter over stupid, trivial things.

It wasn’t just aggression though. There was anxiety too. Tony found himself watching Peter like a hawk, bringing him food and water despite the fact that Peter was so particular he only ate about half of it. He forced nearly every blanket they had on Peter at night until he complained that it was too hot for so many layers and he was quick to grab Peter’s arm if he thought he even _might_ trip when they walked. Tony could tell Peter found it overbearing, but he couldn’t make himself stop.

It had been nearly a week since Peter admitted he was pregnant before Tony finally recognized what was happening to him.

Tony was driving. The windows had been rolled down so that they could at least pretend to keep cool with the wind whipping by. Peter had tilted the passenger seat as flat as it could go and he lay on his back with one arm slung over his face to block out the sun. He’d rucked up his shirt to feel the wind on as much skin as he could without undressing.

It was the first time Tony had seen so much of Peter bare, but, more importantly, it was the first time he caught of glimpse of the little bump. It wasn’t much. It could have been the very beginnings of a pot belly, if not for how firm it was. In different light, it might have slipped Tony’s notice. And Peter’s shirt was so big, it made sense that it didn’t show most of the time. Nevertheless, there it was: a firm little mound pressing up between his hip bones, rising and falling in time with his breath. Suddenly, the cub felt much more real. It was so small- Peter was so small. Tony felt an unexpected rush of warmth.

He’d been staring at Peter instead of the road and Tony jerked the wheel suddenly to right their course. Peter bolted upright in surprise, shaking sleep off himself.

“What is it?” He asked, whipping his head from side to side to spot the threat that had caused them to swerve. Tony tightened his grip on the wheel. He felt too warm. He could feel his heart hammering.

“Tony, wha’s wrong? Are you ok?” Peter turned to him. Tony could see him leaning closer out of the corner of his eye and bit down on his lower lip to keep from growling. His voice had dried up. Peter’s nose twitched and Tony knew he must be putting out some unusually intense pheromones.

He turned the wheel sharply, pulling over onto the side of the road.

Tony practically leapt out of his seat, taking a few long paces away from the car before he doubled over, hands on his knees breathing hard. He could hear Peter getting out of the car after him. More than that, he could  _ smell  _ him. Ripe. That’s what he’d thought the first time he met Peter. _Ripe with a cub that wasn’t his._ The growl began to build again in his throat.

“Tony!” Tony threw a hand up before Peter could get too close. His scent was overwhelming. It made him feel lightheaded, like he might drown in it. Like he might  _ like  _ to drown in it.

“Keys-“ Tony’s voice was ragged, he was breathing so hard. He swallowed, trying to concentrate. “Keys are in the car. You need to get in and drive away.”

“Wha-“

“Come get me in like two- three days.” He said. He was getting louder and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Tony, I can’t just leave you,” Peter started again. Something flared in Tony’s chest.  _ Stupid boy. Doing this for  _ **_him_ ** .  _ Can’t he see what’s happening? Stupid Omega. Omega. Omega Omega Omega. _

__

"Can’t be in the car with you.” Tony snapped. He could smell the surprise, the hurt rolling off Peter. He couldn’t take it. He couldn’t keep this Omega smelling so sad. He couldn’t hurt him though, he wouldn’t. He realized he was growling. He took a step back.

“I can’t- It’s a fucking rut, Peter! You never seen a rut? You said your mate was an Alpha!” He was shouting. He didn’t mean to be. He hated this. He hated feeling so out of control, scenting the hurt Peter was signaling and knowing he’d make it so much worse if he got close enough to comfort. He heard Peter take a deep breath.

“You expect me to leave you out here in the desert for three days? Alone? With no supplies?” To Tony’s surprise, Peter was shouting back. ”Just get back in the car, Tony, we’ll figure it out!”

“I’ve been  _ trying _ to figure it out!” There was a whine to Tony’s voice now. Pathetic. “I can’t be in the car with you! Makes it so much worse. I can’t—“

His voice trailed off into a whine. Begging.  _ Please go. Please leave. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t _ . The shame of losing control of his body was too much, but to put on top of that the notion that he could hurt Peter while he was out of control… Tony thought he might lose his mind trying to stave off the rut long enough to make sure he didn’t do anything he didn’t want to.

Something must have clicked for Peter because he finally backed away.

“I’m coming back.” Peter told him, almost like a threat. Tony didn’t say anything, didn’t know what he’d say if he opened his mouth. Peter watched him carefully as he got into the car and finally,  _ finally _ , drove away.

Finally some of the tension loosened its grip on Tony. He no longer felt like a tightly wound spring ready to pop open. The air smelled almost clean after having Omega pheromones pressing in on him for days. Tony’s knees began to shake. He’d been trying so hard to hold him himself together, to not give in to any of this, that when that pressure to do so disappeared, it all seemed to slam into him at once.

He stumbled forward, stomach churning. He felt hot in a way that had nothing to do with the overhead sun. It was like he’d swallowed a hot coal and the warmth was spreading from the pit of his stomach out, burning as it went. It made his skin feel tight and itchy, already oversensitive. His sight seemed uncannily dull while smells seemed stronger and overwhelming, pressing information on him of dust and car exhaust and dead plant matter and long-dried animal dung. Already he was hard and aching fiercely. It was humiliating, even though he was completely alone. Maybe more alone than he’d ever been in his life.

He felt suddenly aware of how desperately vulnerable he’d left himself. He hadn’t even asked to take one of his guns or a blanket he could use to shade himself from the unforgiving sun. He certainly hadn’t brought any water. That more than anything made him nervous.

Tony hadn’t had a rut in years. Steve had been in an Alpha swing so often that Tony had spent the vast majority of the time in an Omega swing to compliment it. A rut was hard enough for someone who was used to it, but Tony’s body was struggling, fighting itself. Trying to rebuild a knot when he hadn’t had one in so long was  _ painful _ and he knew it would take hours and hours. A typical Alpha would lose water quickly during a rut: physical exertion piling on top of an inability to perform even the most basic self-care. As a Beta, an  _ out of practice _ Beta, Tony’s was bound to be worse.

Tony kept walking, tripping over rocks and rabbit holes, finally tumbling into a dry stream bed. It would have to be good enough. Tony didn’t know if he could have gotten up again if he wanted to. There must have been pain from falling, bumps and bruises perhaps, but Tony couldn’t feel it. He curled in on himself and stopped trying to fight it.

People who came back from the brink of feral described it as feeling like a bad rut. Time slipped away. There was only this moment and the next and the next. Only the Now. Everything was at once pushed into hyper focus, while also losing its significance. Tony might have been able to hear or smell more than he’d ever be able to normally, but it didn’t matter. None of it signaled danger or a mate and all Tony knew was heat. His muscles cramped and ached. He writhed, trying to relieve himself, but never finding satisfaction in his own touch, only growing more sensitive and pained each time he failed.

He sweat and he whined. He didn’t know for how long. Once, he heard the soft rustle of something sliding over the sandy bank and his hand shot out before he could think to stop it. He seized the snake and cracked it against the dry riverbed over and over. When he realized it was dead, he wept. He was not a killer- he  _ wasn’t _ . He did not know why he’d killed or why it had been so easy, even if it was only a snake. He could not stop shaking.

It was dark. When had it become dark? Something rumbled, drawing closer.  _ An animal _ , Tony thought,  _ something huge and growling. _ He shook himself. It was a car. He knew the sound of an engine. Why had he forgotten it?

The panic set in almost immediately. He couldn’t run. He’d been sweating and crying all day in the hot sun. He couldn’t fight. His shaking had yet to subside. But he would not die, he decided, as though it were something he  _ could  _ decide.

The car rumbled to a halt. A door slammed and suddenly Tony felt paralyzed by the strength of the scent that rolled over him.  He knew it. Peter. He’d smelled strongly before, but nothing like this. This was ambrosia sweet and fresh, like water and green things. Tony was whining high in his throat before he knew it. He wanted to cry again, but he could not. It didn’t seem to matter to his Alpha self that Tony  _ didn’t want that.  _ He didn’t want Peter like that, and he’d never  _ never _ hurt Peter like that. But all his Alpha seemed to smell was  _ Omega Omega sweet Omega. _ Tony curled in on himself more tightly. He would not let this instinct win. It was not him. It was not what  _ he  _ wanted. He would not let it out to hurt either of them.

The whine turned into a growl as  _ softOmegasweetOmega _ Peter approached, crouched near him.  _ No, stay back, please stay back, please. _

__

“Tony.” He was so nearby. Tony wanted to scream. He needed to tell him to keep away, but he couldn’t seem to remember the words. He snapped his teeth in Peter’s direction.

“Shh, I’m not gonna hurt you.” Tony would have laughed if he could. As though  _ he  _ should be afraid of  _ Peter _ .

“Leave.” There, that was the word. Tony’s voice nearly cracked when he spoke. “Leave. Please. Leave.”

Peter stood up. He stepped away. Tony sucked in a deep breath. Yes. Good. Go. Stay safe. But Peter didn’t go any further than a few steps away. Soon Tony was growling again, gnashing his teeth.

“Leave!” He insisted, desperation growing with each second Peter stayed.

“No.” Peter snapped. “You didn’t abandon me when I was alone, I’m not going to abandon you.”

Tony keened, a sound halfway between a howl and a sob. He couldn’t keep his Alpha leashed forever. He thought he would die trying to, rather than make the kind of mistake that side of him demanded, but he didn’t want to die.

“I’ll stay in the car.” Peter relented. “But I’m coming out to bring you food. Don’t make me try to leave again.”

The two faced each other, but it was no contest. Tony was exhausted and Peter didn’t have an ounce of hesitation in him. Once he’d made his decision, that was it. Tony finally slumped back. Peter still had the car and all the guns and food. He could defend himself if he needed to. Tony didn’t have the strength or the willpower to argue further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Thursday's update is going to be a two-for because part 5 is important but too short to stand on its own, so 4&5 are getting posted together


	5. 4. Dead End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony adjusts to his new Alpha swing, and a trip to town lands the pair in some hot water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY Y’ALL since this is getting posted on the 4th of July, it seemed like a good time to plug Freedom for Immigrants. To celebrate this year, please donate to this or any other charity that works to help folks suffering at the hands of our current gov’t. Even if you don’t live in the U.S. the shit going on is undeniably a huge human rights violation, so please consider donating. If you can’t afford to donate, consider encouraging friends and family who can.
> 
> “Detained immigrants, including people arrested in ICE raids and mothers separated from their children at the border, sometimes have the opportunity to be released on a cash bond — which is like bail — while fighting their immigration cases.” Freedom for Immigrants helps fund these bonds, which can get stupidly expensive since THEY DONT LIMIT HOW HIGH THE BOND CAN BE SET AT.
> 
> You can find out more and donate at: https://www.freedomforimmigrants.org/national-bond-fund/
> 
> -gets off soapbox-
> 
> Content warnings for this chapter include violence/gun violence and blood

 

 

The next four days were a blur for Tony. He remembered heat and pain and feeling rubbed raw. It would feel like time had been suspended, like he was trapped in one moment for days and days, only to snap back to himself and realize it had only been a few minutes. The time was only broken up by the regular appearance of food and water near him. Sometimes he was too far gone to even remember Peter putting it there.

Sometimes he was not and he would whine and growl and curl in on himself to avoid that heavenly Omega scent. Once, he remembered, he had almost lost himself. He’d grabbed Peter’s wrist when he moved to put the food on the ground. They’d both frozen in surprise. But he also remembered Peter prying him off, calmly and firmly, and Tony letting him do so with intense relief.

On the dawn of the fifth day, Tony opened his eyes and breathed freely for what felt like the first time in forever. He could still smell Peter, but it had settled. He just smelled like himself now.

Stinking and aching, Tony made his way back to the car to wake Peter. He didn’t want to stay in this spot a second longer than he had to.

 

\--

 

Tony wanted to say that everything went back to how it had been before, but it wasn’t true. The desire he’d felt in the depth of his rut had subsided completely, but Tony still felt absolutely mortified every time he remembered it. It had been his hormones, not his conscious mind, but it was humiliating nonetheless.  At least that Alpha part of him had calmed to a reasonable pinch in the back of his head now. He was still more aware of Peter than ever, but it had changed.

For lack of a better word, it was as though the Alpha part of him had adopted Peter. He was part of their little two-person pack. He was not a mate, _shouldn’t_ be a mate, but he was family. And it was becoming more and more difficult to resist the feeling, no matter how much Tony wanted to continue his lone-wolf attitude.

Peter seemed to feel the shift as well. He seemed less guarded around Tony: speaking more, teasing his companion, and complaining freely about any discomfort he experienced.

The weeks passed… peacefully. It was strange to think of any time out here as ‘peaceful,’ but it was true. They still had enough gas and supplies for the first week after Tony’s rut that they didn’t have to stop at all and they didn’t meet anyone else on the road.

Peter’s appetite was still poor. He was slowly getting a handle on his stomach and kept down what he ate more often than not, but he was just as reluctant to eat anything in the first place. That was, until he made an unexpected discovery.

It was over dinner one night, Tony cajoling Peter as usual to try to eat more. Tonight it was canned green beans. Peter wasn’t fighting him _exactly._ He was happy to enjoy the contents of the can… just not the green beans. Much to Tony’s irritation, he’d been sucking the canning liquid off the beans and then discarding them.

 

“It’s practically just salt and water!” Tony had complained, but Peter didn’t show any signs of stopping.

 

Finally, he’d pushed the can into Peter’s hand and told him to go to town. Neither of them had really expected him to actually _like_ the canning liquid. But there it was. Once he’d figured out that it was easy enough to drink all the fluid without eating any of the beans, Peter had been insatiable. Tony had heard of odd pregnancy cravings, but not this one.

Their supply was limited, so they tried to ration the cans to last as long as possible, but Tony had trouble keeping to the schedule. It only took a few minutes of watching Peter sigh and poke listlessly at whatever else Tony had handed him for Tony to cave and open a can.

Tony blamed the newly active Alpha instinct for his poor discipline. After all, what Alpha would let a pregnant Omega go sad and hungry when the solution was just in the backseat of the car? For his part, Peter did little to discourage Tony’s indulgence, _despite_ having come up with the rationing system himself.

Soon enough they were running low, and then suddenly, they were completely out. At first it confused Tony that Peter (who now complained that his feet ached and his legs felt swollen on a daily basis) said nothing of the conspicuous absence, but eventually Tony decided that it made sense. Tony had grown up sheltered by his father’s wealth, but Peter probably never had that safety net. He’d grown up in this world where one day there was enough and then the next day there wasn’t; sudden shortages would be nothing new to him.

Despite his lack of verbal complaining, Tony _did_ notice the sharp downturn in Peter’s mood once the cans had dried up.

Maybe his Alpha-self was not as dormant as Tony wanted to think, because it _bothered_ him. It made him feel restless and unsettled to _know_ he wasn’t providing for this member of his pack, someone who was essentially quite vulnerable and who relied on him.

 

—-

 

Nearly a month after his unfortunate rut, Tony noticed that the oversized shirt Peter wore no longer hid his pregnancy. It still wasn’t _extreme_ , but there was no missing the way the shirt pulled taut over his stomach, pulling out now instead of falling straight down.

Tony was surprised to find himself fascinated by the change. He still had his own doubts, of course: his own reservations and baggage, but they seemed separate from this bizarre phenomenon.

“Does it hurt?” He asked one night, unable to keep from staring at the bulge.

“Sorta,” Peter had shrugged, “But not this part.”

He gestured to his distended stomach, pausing before he added, “It’s more my back. My feet. That sort of thing, y’know?”

No, Tony didn’t know, but he didn’t say as much. Peter smirked at him after a moment.

“It _looks_ kinda bad though. Wanna see?” Tony had no idea what ‘kinda bad’ meant, and he was somewhat afraid to ask, but his curiosity got the better of him and he nodded.

Peter tugged up his shirt to display his stomach and Tony understood. The stretch marks along the bottom of his belly were fresh, reaching down and disappearing beneath his waistband. They looked almost like injuries at first glance: reddish purple and forking, lightening-like. Tony pulled a face and Peter laughed, letting his shirt drop again.

“I know, right?” He said and then sighed dramatically. “It’s actually starting to be kind of a problem.”

“You said it didn’t hurt.”

“It doesn’t, but I…” Peter laughed again, sheepishly this time. “I’m starting to lose my pants. They don’t button right anymore.”

Tony took a moment to process before chuckling.

“So what, you’re gonna have to spend the rest of the time pants-less?” He asked.

“Uh, _yeah_ , unless I can find new pants. I don’t think I’ll be able to even get these ones on in another month.”

 

\--

 

It started out as a joke between them, Peter complaining about the tight fit whenever they switched from standing to sitting, or whenever he came back from a bathroom trip (which was admittedly, becoming more frequent). It was slightly less funny, however, when the danger of having to wander bare-legged became more real as time crawled on.

Eventually practicality won out over pride. Peter’s mobility was already compromised, carrying the extra weight of a growing child, but trying to get around in jeans that barely stretched over his thighs was getting ridiculous. He couldn’t run like that, not really. The denim simply was not forgiving enough to allow much freedom of movement. Even Peter was willing to admit that it was becoming more of a liability than they could afford.

After their last attempt to scavenge a town, both were reluctant to try again, but looking at their thinning supplies settled the matter for Tony. Peter agreed at first, but when they finally reached another town, he began to waver.

“We _could_ keep going,” Tony said when Peter began to voice his doubt, “But I don’t think we have enough to last us to the next town. And, you know, I bet the kid would be the first one to suffer for it if we ran out before then.”

“ _Guilt tripper,_ ” Peter muttered unhappily as he relented. Tony shrugged.

“If that’s what it takes…”

 

\---

 

Hoping to appear less conspicuous, the pair left the car near the edge of town.

This town was not like the last one they had visited. It was just as quiet, but Tony had been able to read signs of habitation in that last one. Here… It was just too ruined to really tell. The buildings were in poor shape for the most part: some were simply so old and uncared for that they’d fallen into disrepair, but others seemed to have been used as target practice. What the assailants had been practicing _with_ , Tony wasn’t sure. Some of the damage looked like it had come from gunshots, but some of it was so extensive, Tony wasn’t sure _what_ it had come from. It made his stomach churn and he wrenched his mind away from thoughts of bombs and ballistics.

The damage in and of itself was not terribly surprising. What did surprise Tony, was how unevenly it had been scavenged. The wood and stone and wire from the ruined buildings were a precious resource and yet much of it still remained. There were areas that had been picked clean, but others that looked almost untouched. “Almost” because the damaged walls were covered in graffiti.

Tags Tony didn’t recognize were layered over one another. In some places the paint was so thick that Tony couldn’t even assess the state of the wall beneath it. A few of the messages and stamps had been carved into the concrete, forgoing paint entirely.

The emptiness coupled with the destruction made Tony’s skin crawl. He could tell it was making Peter edgy as well.

“You smell anything?” He asked, keeping his voice low even though there didn’t seem to be anyone around. Peter’s lips were pressed into a thin, hard line.

“Not exactly…”

“Does it smell bad?”

Peter shook his head, placing a hand unconsciously over his stomach. “No, just… Off.”

They walked slowly through the streets, keeping mostly off the main roads. Tony scanned the buildings from the outside as best he could, trying to gauge the structural integrity against the odds of finding anything of value inside.

Tony stopped short when he realized that Peter wasn’t beside him. He turned, and found Peter some yards back, staring at the wall of a building.

“Peter?” Tony called. When the kid didn’t look away from the wall or show any sign that he’d heard Tony at all, he jogged back toward him. Up close he could tell Peter was shaking. “Peter? What is it?”

Peter’s mouth moved wordlessly for a moment. His eyes were so wide that Tony could see the whites all the way around the edge. He pointed at the wall, and Tony followed his gaze.

Someone had spray-painted the wall with a red circle, maybe four feet across. Bursting through the confines of shape was a large jagged red ‘X’.

“That’s it,” Peter whispered finally. “That’s them. That’s their sign.”

Tony looked at him, confused. Peter swallowed hard. He was terrified. Tony could smell it on him. Worse, he looked like he might be about to cry.

“The people who got Wade. That’s them, I know it is.” Peter insisted, panic creeping into his voice.

“Whoa, wait, are you sure?” Tony reached for Peter’s shoulder gently. “That was miles and _miles_ from here. Why would they be all the way out here?”

“I don’t know, but that’s them!” Peter turned to him with pleading eyes, grabbing onto Tony’s wrist. “We need to go. Please, please, let’s just go.”

Tony hesitated only another second. The last time he’d insisted on staying in a place when Peter wanted to leave, they’d been chased out with bullets. It was too close a call and Tony wouldn’t risk it again, especially now that Peter had lost so much mobility. He nodded and they turned, heading back the way they came.  

Tony jogged ahead. He stopped short a few feet from the car.

“Shit, shit, shit- go back! Back the way we came!”

The tires were slashed. They were beyond slashed; they were absolutely shredded. All the doors were torn open. He didn’t need to look to know they’d been robbed blind.

Peter had slowed a couple yards away, a hand braced over his stomach to run, but he wasn’t looking at Tony. He was staring at the nearby hills, transfixed. An engine revved. A buggy crested the hill. It was little more than an engine and four wheels strapped together, but it tore down the hill with no trouble at all.

“Go!” Tony yelled.

He heard the bang before he felt the pain. His leg crumpled beneath him. Suddenly he was on his hands and knees. Pebbles dug into his palms, heat exploding from his thigh.

“Tony!” Peter rushed toward him. He was crouched in front of Tony before he could protest, pressing his hands over Tony’s leg. The pressure sent pain shooting all the way down his leg and he barely stifled a scream.

“No, go! Now!” He pried Peter’s hands away.

“I can’t just leave you,” Peter hissed, more angry than afraid.

The buggy skidded to a stop in front of them. Four men, all in masks, got out leisurely. Their nonchalance made Tony’s heart race. They didn’t need to rush; they knew he and Peter weren’t going anywhere.

“You can and you will,” Tony said fiercely. He pressed a hand over Peter’s stomach. The bulge was firm under his hand. “Get out of here.”

He could see the indecision flickering on Peter’s face. The men were approaching now, all of them armed. Peter’s face hardened. He nodded.

And then he took off. He was quick - quicker than anyone five months pregnant should be. Tony knew it wasn’t going to be enough.

Someone barked an order and one of the men peeled off after Peter. Tony couldn’t see them. He didn’t know if that was better or worse, trying to guess what was happening based on sound alone.

A hand clamped down into his hair, yanking him to his knees. The shift sent pain blooming from his thigh. His captor was speaking to him, shoving something in his face.

A gun, Tony realized through the haze of pain, _his_ gun. One he’d made.

“Where’d you get this?”

“Fuckin’ Santa Claus,” Tony spat. His heart hammered in his chest. He knew where this was going. The knee slammed into his gut so fast, Tony didn’t even have time to raise his hands to defend himself. The hand in his hair barely kept him upright while he choked and gasped.

“Where’d you get this?”

“Your mom’s ass,” he finally gasped when he had the air. They dropped him. It was enough of a surprise that Tony couldn’t catch himself before his head hit the ground, gravel tearing at his cheek. He groaned, starting to push himself up on his hands. A boot came down hard over his head and stayed there. Tony let his eyes close for just a minute. Maybe he could stall them until he bled out and rob them of the chance to kill him properly. He sure as hell wasn’t going to become their little pet mechanic, which he was sure would happen if he admitted to making the guns.

“Where-“ A loud bang drowned out the rest of the question. Tony’s eyes shot open as he suddenly began to struggle beneath the boot, clawing at the dirt.

“Peter!”

It had been so long, he’d started to hope- he heard a yelp from somewhere on the other side of the car and fell still to listen. He was scared to die, but it was nothing compared to this: lying helpless in the dirt, unable to do anything but smell the faint stench of scared Omega and listen to the sounds of a struggle, of little shifts and gasps and then, suddenly, silence.


	6. 5. Interlude - Deadpool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: mentions of violence/blood, allusions to canon-typical Deadpool experience and brainwashing

Deadpool knows pain. Pain in his body. Pain in his mind. Pain in his heart that he does not know how to question. He knows pain and he knows heat and he knows blood. And he knows hunger. Always, he is hungry.

They let him hunt. They show him where there is prey. Food and metal and people. They don’t care that he sinks his fangs into the necks of his prey even after they are dead. They only care if he refuses to hunt. But Deadpool is always hungry. He always hunts. And he never questions the hollowness, does not even know how.

They show him the car. It is the same as always. Food. Blankets. Guns. A can with an unfamiliar picture. A familiar smell where there shouldn’t be. But that is not part of the hunt. He hides with his pack. He waits. He smells them – their prey – when they draw near. An Alpha- no, a Beta. And an Omega. Soft Omega. Sweet-smelling Omega. Ripe Omega.

He waits. His hackles are raised. He wants to run. He wants to sink his teeth into something.

The Beta collapses. The blood smells sweet. The Omega flees.

“’Pool, fetch.”

Finally. His legs pumping. The Omega’s scent, thick in his nose, stronger as he draws closer. His lungs alive and burning with the smell and the chase. But the Omega is too quick. His prey will escape. No. Deadpool always kills when he hunts. His gun is in his hand.

The sand near the Omega’s feet explodes. He shrieks, jumps, loses his footing. Falls. Got him. Deadpool closes the distance. Omega is scrambling to his feet. Deadpool slams into him, flattens him. Almost. Omega has his knees under him, splayed wide, protecting his stomach from the ground. He flails, keens, bucking under Deadpool’s weight. Deadpool catches his arms, pins them to his sides, holds onto him fast until his struggling slows.

Something is wrong. Something in the Omega’s smell. He squirms in Deadpool’s arms. He’s scared. Deadpool can smell it on him, thick and acrid. So afraid. It makes his chest ache. Deadpool holds tighter. Something in his smell. He shoves his face against the Omega’s neck. What is it? His mask is in the way.

The Omega gasps. He goes slack in Deadpool’s arms. He begins to shake.

“Wade… Wade…” He says it so quiet. Like it’s something fragile. Like it’s something precious. “Wade…”

Deadpool knows that word. The knows that word and he knows that smell. He tugs off his mask and buries his nose in the Omega’s neck.

It feels like being plunged underwater. Like being pushed down a hill, tumbling head over heels. He knows this scent. He wants to bury himself in it. He knows it means something, but not what. Everything, maybe. Deadpool is shaking too. The Omega whispers that word, “Wade,” over and over.

“Omega.” He finally finds a word. He hasn’t spoken in so long. He almost forgot he knew how. His hold on the Omega tightens. “Mine.”

He can hear his pack. They yell for Deadpool. They yell for him to fetch. They want his Omega. Deadpool growls low in his throat. They can’t have him. They grow louder. More insistent. Angry. Deadpool knows what happens to the prey he brings them. He can smell the fear on his Omega. His Omega, so scared… Deadpool’s nostrils flare.

He stands.

It’s easy. Deadpool always kills when he hunts and it feels good. He fires and the shots echo in his ears. They fall and when they do, Deadpool tears into them with teeth and nails, snapping necks and tearing throats and eyes. Their blood is hot on his face and the iron fills his nose.

His pack is dead. Only the Beta is left. He already stinks of fear, starting to claw at the ground to pull himself away. It’s more than fear – he smells like Deadpool’s Omega. He’s touched him, somehow. Laid hands on him. Deadpool snarls. He wants this Beta’s blood too. Anyone who touches what is his.

“Wade, stop!” He doesn’t want to. He wants blood. But he wants his Omega more. “Stop it, I need him!”

His Omega is behind him, his hand on Deadpool’s arm. He is sad. Deadpool can smell it. So sad. And so scared. Scared of him. Deadpool doesn’t want to scare him. Still growling, he lowers his gun. His Omega is bleeding. His knees are scraped from where Deadpool had pushed him to the ground. He shudders. No. No more blood. No more blood.

His Omega kneels beside the Beta. He clamps his hands over the Beta’s leg. Blood wells between his fingers. Fear still rolls off the Beta.

“Peter—what?” His voice is thick and slow. He clings to Deadpool’s Omega. The growl builds in Deadpool’s throat, but he does not move. His Omega quiets the Beta, soft, almost purring sounds as he binds his leg.

“We need to go.” His Omega says. Still scared. Less scared. Not scared of Deadpool. He speaks firmly. “Do you know somewhere safe? We need to go somewhere safe.”

_ There is nowhere safe _ , he wants to say. But he will keep his Omega safe. He will find a way. He begins to step back toward his pack’s buggy. His Omega isn’t following. Deadpool stops. His Omega is watching him. Deadpool takes another step. Still he will not come.

“Help me,” his Omega says finally, gesturing to the Beta. “I can’t carry him by myself.”

He growls again. He does not want to bring the Beta. His Omega holds firm. Deadpool yields. He kneels, hoists the Beta onto his back. Places him in the backseat of the buggy. Omega finally follows.

Deadpool drives. He does not like the buggy. It is not safe. The sun burns his head. It is too hot. He can see it draining his Omega. He does not stop though. They are too open. Too exposed. His pack is too large. They will find the bodies soon. He needs to find somewhere safe before then

Darkness falls slowly. Out of the gloom a building rises. Empty. A house. No good. It’s almost collapsed. A tower with a domed roof beside it. Better. Deadpool drags the buggy inside to hide it. He stands by the door. He waits.


	7. 6. The Silo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Tony try to make sense of Wade’s reappearance while recuperating in an old grain silo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: mentions of past violence, infidelity mentions (Peter/Tony - none occurs), allusions to torture, possessiveness

Tony wasn’t totally sure if  _ ‘Wade’  _ was asleep or not. It was so dark that Tony couldn’t even tell if his own eyes were shut, so there was no way for him to know for sure. But Wade’s breathing had slowed some time ago and Tony guessed he was asleep.

_ Tony _ should sleep. He’d lost a lot of blood. He needed the rest, but Tony couldn’t make himself relax. He was in pain, but even more than that, he couldn’t let his guard down so easily.

The slaughter had been brutal. Tony wouldn’t change the course of events - he was, admittedly, alive because of this Alpha’s brutality - but he couldn’t stop seeing the bloodbath playing over and over in his mind. It wasn’t enough for him to shoot them, the Alpha had  _ mutilated them:  _ torn out throats and gouged out eyes and shattered jaws. Tony could only be glad that they had probably already been dead when the Alpha did it.

Peter returned from somewhere in the darkness, moving carefully so as not to trip, settling himself beside Tony.

“How are you feeling?” Peter asked quietly. Tony shrugged before realizing that Peter wouldn’t be able to see him do it.

“Could be worse.” He said stiffly. It hurt like hell, but what could Peter do about it if Tony said so? They didn’t have almost any supplies, and they  _ definitely  _ didn’t have any painkillers.

Tony felt Peter’s hands against his face, feeling his cheeks and then his forehead. He must have been satisfied that Tony was neither clammy with shock nor burning with fever, because he leaned away with a little sigh.

“Are you sure it’s him?” Tony asked finally. Somehow, when Peter had been mourning his Alpha, Tony hadn’t imagined him missing a vicious killer.

“Yes.” As with most things, Peter showed no hesitation. Tony couldn’t tell what emotion accompanied the proclamation. “I’d know that scent anywhere… wouldn’t you?”

Tony’s heart clenched. Of course, he would. Anywhere. He could be deaf and blind and forget his own name, but he’d still know his mate’s scent. It almost made it worse to know that this probably  _ was  _ Wade, that Peter had tied himself to someone capable of that sort of violence.

“Was he always… like this?” Tony wasn’t sure what part of ‘this’ he meant: always horrifically scarred, always so violent, always so… feral?

“They did something to him,” now at least, Tony could smell the rage simmering under the surface of Peter’s words. “I don’t know what.”

“He’s more than half feral, Peter,” Tony finally blurted out, still keeping his voice low. “It’s dangerous.”  _ He’s dangerous. _

He didn’t need to see to know that Peter’s head had snapped toward him.

“Every single day is dangerous,” he hissed.

“Not like this,” Tony insisted. “You saw what he did to those guys. That was— ruthless.”

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t have done it if you could,” Peter sneered. “If you could have protected us like that, you would have, wouldn’t you?”

It stung more than Tony wanted to admit. The implication that Tony had failed, that he had been unable to protect Peter, was hard to swallow. Just as hard, however, was the idea that Peter believed him capable of such violence. Worse still, Tony knew he was right. If he’d had the opportunity? Tony probably would have massacred them as well for trying to attack them. Attack Peter.

Tony dropped the issue.

—

Wade slept for almost the entire day after their arrival at the silo. Peter came in and out throughout the day as he searched the attached farmhouse and nearby fields for anything useful. It riled Tony’s anxiety, but there wasn’t much he could do about it: he definitely was not ready to put any weight on his injured leg and both of them were loathe to wake Wade, which left Peter to scavenge on his own with the promise that he’d stay within earshot.

There was next to nothing of value to be found anyway. Peter found a sack of flour, but nearly lost his stomach when it turned out to be riddled with bugs. There was wood that they might have been able to salvage, but they weren’t planning on staying long enough to build anything and it was too hot for a fire and the light would be too conspicuous anyway.

The buggy that they’d stolen was clearly not meant for extended journeys, but it had at least the most basic supplies: a few ration packs, a tarp, extra bullets, some water, a meager few medical supplies and - most valuable of all - iodine tablets.

Peter changed the bandages on Tony’s leg once, using some of their precious clean water to rinse out the wound.

“Don’t,” Tony had tried to protest. “You shouldn’t waste water on this.”

“It’s not a waste if it means you don’t get an infection and  _ die _ ,” Peter shot back. Personally, Tony didn’t know if water alone was going to be enough to ward off infection: if it was going to happen, it was going to happen. And besides, Peter had his mate back. He didn’t really need Tony the way he had only days ago.

—

It was after he and Peter had eaten their dinner that Wade finally stirred.

“Peter?”

The furious growl of that bloodthirsty Alpha was gone; this voice sounded so small and scared that it might have belonged to a child. Tony could hardly reconcile the two. Peter was on his feet, rushing to Wade’s side in an instant.

“I’m here,” he breathed, sinking to his knees and reaching for Wade’s face. “I’m right here.”

Wade sat up, wrapping his arms around Peter’s waist and pulling him onto his lap. He pressed his face into the crook of Peter’s neck, almost as though he were trying to hide himself. A moment later, Tony heard the unmistakable sound of a sob.

Tony felt like an intruder on the moment, but there was little he could do; he was immobile for the indefinite future. All he could do was try not to stare.

The crying seemed to go on for an age. It was almost all Wade, Tony realized quickly. A few sounds were from Peter, but the vast majority of it was Wade, holding tight to Peter and sobbing, rocking gently back and forth. It was unnerving. There was no doubt that Wade was strong: he had to be to dish out the sort of violence he had yesterday, but this was an Alpha  _ broken. _ Tony didn’t know if he wanted to find out what had happened to break him.

When his crying slowed, Peter pulled Wade’s face up to look at him properly. He stroked Wade’s cheeks, his jaw, the back of his neck. Every inch Tony could see was scarred almost beyond recognition, and every inch was entirely hairless. He lacked even eyebrows.

“What did they  _ do  _ to you?” Peter asked. Tony could hear the horror in his voice and the way Wade’s voice cracked when he answered.

“Everything.”

Wade pulled back, suddenly agitated. He struggled to pull off the leather gloves he still wore, eventually accepting Peter’s help to peel them off. His breath hitched in his throat as he stared at his hands: just as mutilated as the rest of him. He let his head fall back against Peter’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around him.

“I hoped— it was a nightmare.” Tony could barely hear the admission. They stayed twined together, quiet while Wade stroked Peter’s back reverently. His hands slowed as they slid across his sides and Tony knew he had finally felt the swell of Peter’s stomach between them. “... I thought this might have been a dream too.”

“It’s real.” It was probably meant to be reassuring, but Tony could hear the anxiety spiking in Peter’s voice. 

_ Of course, _ Tony thought. Peter had never had to think about his partner’s reaction before. Wade’s opinion about the baby didn’t matter if he was dead. As if reacting to Peter’s anxiety, Wade stiffened. Tony could almost smell the tension between them before Wade finally spoke.

“You smelled like him…” It took Tony long seconds to realize Wade meant  _ him, Tony. _ “Is it…?”

The tension popped as Peter gave a shaky laugh.

“No,” he said firmly. “No, it’s yours. It’s ours.”

They kissed and Tony finally averted his eyes. His stomach felt like it had been tied into knots. He felt sick and he was pretty sure it had nothing to do with his injured leg.

—

They stayed in the silo the following day as well. With Wade awake and at least somewhat returned to his senses, he and Peter spent most of the day outside, scavenging. They returned periodically (obviously at Peter’s insistence) to check on Tony: to change his bandages and to eat together.

It was a new experience for Tony to be left behind like this. He knew they weren’t going far but it was easily the longest Tony had been alone since he’d met Peter (not including his rut, which was different since Tony had been half out of his mind at the time). He found he didn’t like it. There was nothing for him to do but wait and think and wallow.

The sick feeling from the night before only grew and Tony recognized it now as jealousy: jealousy that he’d been so easily replaced as the person Peter could rely on, but more than that, jealousy that  _ Peter’s  _ mate had come back. It wasn’t fair. Hadn’t he mourned just as deeply? Hadn’t he loved just as fiercely? What made Wade worthy of beating the odds and coming back to Peter that Steve hadn’t had?

The longer he was left alone, the worse the feeling grew. Tony felt despicable. Peter was obviously  _ floored _ by this turn of events, hardly letting Wade out of reach, let alone out of sight. And Tony had seen first hand how badly Wade’s ‘death’ had affected him. How could Tony resent something that made Peter so happy? But he did. Tony did resent it and he couldn’t seem to stop.

Tony didn’t know if Wade could sense his jealousy or if he was just scared of being ripped away from his mate again, but Tony could tell Wade didn’t enjoy having him there either. He couldn’t seem to go two seconds without touching Peter: an arm around his shoulders or his waist or a hand on the small of his back or trying to hold Peter’s hand in his. He even tried to pull Peter onto his lap whenever they sat to eat. Peter didn’t seem to mind, but it was still hard for Tony to bite his tongue. Peter was a person, not a teddy bear to be dragged around just for Wade’s comfort.

—

“Ok, Wade, what is it?”

The couple must have been standing outside near the silo door. From the changing shadows, Tony knew darkness was falling and that the pair should be back soon.

“What’s what?” Wade sounded like he was trying to be casual, but it was not particularly convincing.

“All this. You’ve been Mr. Grabby-hands twenty four-seven since you woke up.” Tony was a little surprised to hear Peter say so. He had assumed that he was projecting his own jealousy and resentment onto the situation. It was a little reassuring to know Wade wasn’t normally  _ that  _ possessive, and that Peter didn’t seem to have a problem voicing his opinions about it.

“Missed you…” Wade mumbled. Peter sighed.

“I missed you too. A  _ lot.”  _ He said, “But I don’t think that’s what this is. You’ve been fine all day. You only get grabby when we start going inside… is it Tony?”

Wade didn’t immediately respond. Tony was suddenly aware of the fact that, intentional or not, he was definitely eavesdropping on their conversation. Still, it wasn’t like he’d done it on purpose. He couldn’t help hearing them talk right outside and he couldn’t even stand to move away if he wanted to. Besides, his stomach had done an odd little somersault at the mention of his name and, truthfully, Tony was curious.

“Is it?” Peter asked again when Wade didn’t answer after a few seconds.

“You smelled like him…” Wade finally said, sounding somewhat sheepish.

“We were traveling together. It’s not-  _ like  _ that.” Tony heard the little catch in Peter’s voice and he knew Wade would have heard it too: just that slightest bit of hesitation.

Tony’s face burned in the darkness. It wasn’t like that, but it almost was. Those nights when Tony had been lost in his rut... It had been agony to keep his Alpha instincts leashed back then. He’d never thought of how Peter’s Omega side might have responded. They had been miraculously lucky, Tony realized, for things not to have escalated.

“But it could have been.” Wade’s voice hardened.

“ _ But it wasn’t.” _ Peter snapped. Tony could smell the sudden spike in their emotions, anger mingling with fear. “And if it had been, you wouldn’t have any right to say anything about it anyway.”

“What?” The anger was only a thin veil across the hurt in Wade’s voice.

“You were dead!” Peter must not realize how loud he’d gotten. “You were dead and I was alone!”

“But I wasn’t dead,” Wade growled.

“I didn’t know that! It was just me and this baby and you were  _ gone! _ ”

“But I  _ wasn’t _ gone!” Wade was starting to match Peter’s volume. “Did you even look for a body? How could you think I was dead if you never saw a body? What if I hadn’t been dead? You didn’t come looking for me!”

“Why would I think you had survived that? They shot you, Wade! You fell from a five story building!” Peter sounded breathless but he kept shouting. “There was so much blood. I found your fucking leg, Wade! I found your leg and a huge pool of blood, what was I supposed to think?”

“That wasn’t my leg.”

“Yeah, it was! It was wearing your pants  _ and  _ your shoes!”

“I’m telling you, Pete, it wasn’t mine!”

“Whose else could it be?”

“I dunno but not mine, mine’s right here!”

The voices cut short. From his spot inside, Tony couldn’t see what Wade showed Peter to convince him. He had to guess that it was, in fact, his leg, still obviously attached to his body. Tony burned with curiosity but he didn’t dare ask and reveal how much he’d heard.

“How- How is that possible?” Peter seemed to have been startled out of his anger. “I  _ saw _ it, Wade. It was definitely yours. How can it be here and there too?”

“I don’t know.” Wade sounded utterly defeated. “I don’t know, Pete, they did… so much to me. I can’t- I can’t remember now.”

Peter’s voice was soft, and Tony could imagine him stroking Wade’s face. “What did they  _ do _ to you?”

“So much… just- everything. H-hammers and nails and fire…” Wade’s voice shook.

“Fuck.” Peter’s tone matched Wade’s. “Fuck. Wade, I’m- I’m so sorry. I should have looked for you. I could have tried to stop them. I’m sorry.”

Tony realized uncomfortably that Peter was crying. And he wasn’t don’t speaking either.

“I really thought you were gone. I thought they chopped you into pieces and fed you to the dogs. I thought I was never going to see you again.” Peter’s voice finally broke, words slipping away from him, replaced by muffled sobs.

“No, don’t, I’m sorry too. I didn’t want to leave, I didn’t want you to be alone.” Wade was crying again too, Tony realized. “No, it’s good you didn’t come. They would’ve killed you. Or worse.”

Wade took a deep shuddering breath,  “And they definitely would’ve killed the pup. It’s good you didn’t come.”

It was a long time before the pair came in and they were quiet when they did. Wade was noticeably less handsy with Peter, but he didn’t have to be. Peter practically glued himself to Wade’s side anyway.

Watching them, Tony couldn’t help but feel that same jealousy rise again. There was an ache now that accompanied it: loneliness.

\--

The following day, Tony stubbornly got to his feet and practiced walking around the silo and the day after that, he ventured outside and declared himself ‘good enough’ to move on. His limp was obvious and his leg ached fiercely, but he never fell.

He’d been lucky, as far as they could tell. The bullet had bitten through the outside edge of his thigh, but didn’t seem like it had hit bone or any key arteries. It was a deep, ugly cut, and it hurt like a bitch, but so far it didn’t seem life threatening. There was still time to get blood poisoning and kick the bucket, of course, but he wasn’t there yet.

His timing seemed good too. After nearly four days at the silo, Peter had scavenged just about everything that could be scavenged from the surrounding area. The emergency supplies from the buggy they had stolen were almost gone too. They needed to move and sooner rather than later.

There was one more hurdle to overcome: they were going to need a real car. The buggy was far too exposed. It offered no protection from the sun or the dust of the road, and  _ definitely  _ not from flying bullets if it came to that. Walking would be even worse. Wade might have been able to do it, but he and Peter couldn’t. Tony hated admitting any weakness, but he knew that both he and Peter were in vulnerable positions to begin with. Risking that kind of exhaustion trekking through the desert on foot was practically asking to die.

Tony initially suggested finding a road and snagging the first vehicle that passed, but Peter shot it down immediately. First, it could be weeks before anyone passed their way and even if someone did, it could easily be Weapon X. Wade hadn’t said explicitly that they might be looking for him after his sudden and violent desertion, but it would not have been surprising. Moreover, Peter argued, they weren’t going to steal from other travelers who might need the supplies.

“It’s not like we’d  _ kill  _ them,” Tony hedged. He didn’t have any other ideas and he really did not want to die of thirst while they tried to figure out something better.

“What do you think would happen to them out here without their car?” Peter demanded. “It’s as good as killing them.”

“Maybe, but  _ not  _ doing it could be as good as killing  _ us.” _

Peter and Tony stared each other down, stubbornly. Tony didn’t want to kill if he could help it, but he wasn’t going to let Peter let them all die sitting around either. Finally Wade interrupted sheepishly.

“I know somewhere we could get a car.”

“Where?” 

Wade hesitated before he answered.

“You’re not gonna like it,” he warned with a grimace, “But, you know, Weapon X had a lot of cars. Definitely wouldn’t kill them to lose one.”

“What? Wade, no!” Peter protested. “You can’t go back there, you just got away!”

“I know, I know, but that’s all I got.” Wade reached out to touch Peter’s cheek. “You know we need a car and they have one. Tons, actually. If we can’t wait for one and we can’t take one from innocent people… I mean, if anyone deserves to get robbed, it’s them.”

“What if we got caught?” Peter’s brow furrowed, but Tony interrupted quickly.

“Uh, “we?” Peter, there isn’t gonna be a ‘we.’ You are  _ not  _ going in there.” He said firmly. Peter looked like he might be about to protest but Wade squeezed his hand apologetically.

“Sorry, baby boy, I’m with your road-dad on this one. Just for a few more months. Then you can make someone else hold the baby and kick all the ass you want.” Wade said with a sad sort of smirk. Peter wrinkled his nose, sighed, and surrendered the point.

“Fine. What if  _ you  _ got caught?” He asked.

“He won’t get caught, because  _ he  _ won’t be going. I’ll go.” Tony said.

“Tony, you’re still hurt!”

“I’m tough. Besides, if anything happens, then you’ve still got your Alpha to watch your back.” Tony tried to shrug off the concern.

“Uh, no offense Pops, but they’d catch you in two seconds and I don’t think you’d get very far on that leg anyway.” Wade chimed in, folding his arms. “I’ll go. I know the compound. I know all the security. I’m the  _ only one here _ not injured or pregnant. And if I get caught then  _ you  _ can stay and watch Peter’s back.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Tony snapped. “He  _ just  _ got you back. We can’t put him through that again.”

“ _ ’He’ _ is right here, thanks,” Peter grumbled.

“Ok then, what does ‘ _ he _ ’ think?” Tony retorted. Peter fidgeted, frowning hard. He looked down at his feet.

“I hate this.” He said quietly. He took a deep breath. “I think you should both go.”

“Pete-“

“No, listen to me. If you guys are so concerned about someone being here to _“watch”_ me, then you should both go so you can _both_ come back. I need you guys. Both of you. I think you’ll have a better chance together. If you watch each other’s backs, you’ll get back in one piece.” He said firmly. Tony felt his heart sink a little. He could tell Peter had started to dig in his heels.

“But what if we don’t?” Wade asked, not quite willing to yield yet. “You’ll be alone, Pete.”

“I won’t. You’ll come back.” He said stubbornly. Tony could see Wade’s resolve starting to weaken.

“But how do you know?” Wade sounded almost scared.

“Because I need you.” Peter’s face softened a little. “So you’ll be there.”


	8. 7. The Heist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Wade attempt to steal a car from Weapon X.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Wade’s self-confidence issues, abandonment mentions, Tony having zero tolerance for Wade’s issues, violence/gun violence, blood, character death (temporary), allusions to torture/human experimentation on adults and children, brief derogatory language

Wade drove the buggy back in the direction of Weapon X’s compound. It wasn’t the only location like this, Wade told them. They’d taken him somewhere else for most of the experiments and only sent him here when they deemed him ‘finished’ enough to be useful _._

They parked the buggy about a mile away in the hills nearby and made Peter swear up and down to run at the first sign of trouble or if they took more than three days getting back. They tried to make him promise not to come back for them if they didn’t return, but he refused point blank to even consider it. If they didn’t want him to go in after them, they’d just have to find a way to make it out alive.

Tony was still reluctant to leave Peter alone. Even if Peter did have the buggy and one of Wade’s handguns, there were still so many things that could go wrong. He couldn’t afford to think about it though or else he’d have a melt down right on the spot.

Finally, after many promises and kisses between the mates, Wade led Tony toward the compound on foot.

 

—

 

It didn’t look like much from the outside. The compound was surrounded by a chain link fence topped with barbed wire, but the security measure seemed almost lazy. There were only a few low buildings on the lot. Technically they each had guards posted, but even from a distance it was easy to see that defense wasn’t much of a concern. _They must not need to worry about security when the only people nearby are the ones they prey on,_ Tony thought darkly.

Wade had explained that the most important resources (the food, the weapons, the cars) were all underground. All they really needed was to get to the garage. There was a driveway, Wade had told him, that lead directly back to the surface from said garage, and Wade was pretty sure this was their best point of entry.

The pair lay on their stomachs, well outside of the lights of the compound. They’d salvaged very little from the buggy they’d stolen, and what they _had_ salvaged they’d left with Peter, except for a pair of binoculars. Wade raised them to his eyes, scanning the gates before he set them down with a small sigh.

“Last chance,” He said to Tony. The corner of his mouth lifted, but Tony wouldn’t call the expression a smile.

“We already talked about this.” Tony frowned, not really wanting to get into this argument. Again. “You need someone to watch your back.”

“It’ll be fine.” Wade insisted, starting to scowl. “Seriously, I’d feel better if I knew someone was with Peter, especially if I don’t come back.” 

“Oh my god, can you stop saying that?” Tony glared. “It’s annoying. And depressing.”

“Well, it’s _true._ I- _we_ \- could die here. It’s pretty fucking likely if you think about it.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I want to hear you say it every three minutes,” Tony snapped. He hadn’t realized how much Wade’s pessimism had been grating on his nerves until just now. “Could you just- stop with the whole inevitable doom thing for a second?”

“Why? Does it bother you?” Wade was teasing, but it wasn’t really playful and it made Tony _itch_ to smack him. “Does it bother you to hear about how astronomically low our odds of success are? How likely it is that that plastic-pouch gruel we had for lunch was our last meal?”

“It _bothers_ me to hear you talking like you’re fine with it.” Tony snapped. “If you want to leave your mate, there are better ways to do it then getting yourself killed.”

“Shut up.” It wasn’t loud, but it was icy. Every ounce of teasing had drained from Wade’s voice in an instant. Tony, however, wasn’t quite finished.

“Because that’s what it fucking sounds like you’re doing to me! I’d think you’d be over the moon, right now!” Tony ranted, ignoring all signs of Wade’s rising discomfort. “You survived all that shit they put you through. You _found your mate_ again. And all you can talk about is how we’re gonna die? Peter’s waiting for you and you just want to joke about your own death? Fuck you. Do you have any idea what I’d give to be in your position?”

“What, to be so badly mutilated your mate can hardly stand to touch you?” Wade shot back. His voice was raw with bitterness. It only made Tony all the more upset.

“You two haven’t been alone since you got back! Is it so crazy to think that he just doesn’t want to fuck you in front of me?”

Wade didn’t seem to be listening. The anger seemed to leech away from him as suddenly as it had come. He shook his head, shoulder slumping.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not the same. Everything’s different. The shit they did… The stuff that happened to me… I’m not ok, ok? I might not ever be ok. He deserves better than some broken fucked up Alpha with a face like old road kill.”

Tony couldn’t bring himself to feel pity, even though this young Alpha was obviously in pain. Terrible things had happened to him -cruel, inhumane things - and yet hearing him talk like that was _infuriating._ Tony grabbed Wade’s arm harshly. The Alpha startled. For a second, Tony thought he was going to hit him, but Wade only flinched. Tony shook him.

“You’re a fucking idiot!” He snapped, tightening his grip on Wade’s arm. It had to hurt, but Wade made no move to pull away. “Do you even understand how crazy lucky you are? You’re alive. You’ve got a mate and a pup waiting for you, who _want_ you. It’s a fucking miracle all of you survived, let alone that you found each other again!”

Wade had gone still, clenching his fists against the sand, but Tony wasn’t done.

“Do you even get what it did to him when he thought you died? Do you?” Tony shook him again, harder. “He was half feral when I found him and you’re _ok_ with dying and that happening again?”

Tony let him go, practically pushing him away in disgust. “I would kill to be in your shoes. If I knew my mate was waiting for me, you can bet your ass I wouldn’t fucking die on him. I’d claw my way back from hell if it meant I could see him again.”

Tony took a deep breath, nearly winded from the rant.

“If I hear you talking about letting yourself die again, I’ll—“

“You’ll what? Kill me?” Wade’s voice was low. Venomous with resentment.

“I will drag you back to Peter and hold you down while you explain to _him_ why you think it’s ok to leave him alone again.” Tony spat.

This time when Wade looked at him it was with pure horror. Tony smirked, let the words sink in for a minute and then slapped Wade’s shoulder with exaggerated cheer.

“A’ight, let's do this.” He said with a sardonic grin. Wade huffed a sigh, rolled his eyes and nodded.

“This way.”

 

—

 

The driveway Wade had described looked more like a tunnel slipping down into the earth. It was tall enough for a large pickup truck to drive comfortably with someone standing up in the flat bed and wide enough for two cars to drive side by side. A pair of guards watched it. They were in staggered rotations, Wade had explained, so that the driveway was never unguarded. There was a narrow window of just a few minutes where they switched, however, where there was only one guard instead of two. 

They waited just long enough for the second guard to leave before they made their move. Or, at least, Wade did. Tony was reminded again of his first impression of the Alpha, the fear he’d had surrounding Wade’s capabilities. It was still there, Tony found, as he watched Wade creep behind the guard and snap his neck with his bare hands before the guard could cry out. Wade dragged the body into the darkness of the driveway, out of immediate view and waved Tony down.

The drive sloped gently down, the air growing cooler and damper as they descended into the dark. Tony ran through Wade’s plan again in his mind. The switches for the lights were at the other end of the garage, so they’d have to find the car in the pitch black. It hadn’t sounded difficult when Wade explained it - to find large hulking metal objects in the dark - but it was unnerving in reality. Tony kept one hand on the wall as they walked until it turned sharply and opened into empty space.

If he listened, Tony could hear Wade’s footsteps creeping forward. He was unusually light on his feet for his size, Tony realized. Stealth coupled with the violence he’d seen from Wade was a terrifying combination to think about.

Suddenly, the lights flicked on. For a moment, Tony was blinded, and he blinked hard to clear his vision.

When his vision cleared, Tony’s heart stopped. They were not alone.

There were at least five of them, all masked like Wade had been when they first met him. All of them, except one: a bare faced man in a bulletproof vest. Tony’s stomach dropped. He carried a larger gun than the rest. Tony’s gun. The blaster that _he_ had made. He thought it had been lost in the initial fight with Weapon X.

“Deadpool.” He greeted calmly, barely raising his voice to be heard across the large garage. 

Beside him, Wade froze. Tony could smell the fear rippling off him, but his voice betrayed none of it when he spoke.

“Francis! What’s up, my man?” Wade called, almost cheerfully.

“Welcome back.” ‘Francis’ smiled, but even from this distance Tony could tell it was hardly genuine. Still, the apparent leader lowered the barrel of his gun. The others remained trained on them. “We missed you. The boys were all hoping you’d come home soon.”

Tony took a deep breath. Oh, he was the monologing type. Fantastic. Now he had to balance fear for his life with boredom at some fuckwad’s dramatic speech.

 “And you brought us the mechanic! Good boy, ‘Pool.” Francis shifted his attention to Tony, hefting the blaster again. “This is yours right? You made it?”

Tony didn’t answer, but it didn’t seem like he had to. Francis just kept talking.

“Fantastic design. So efficient. Getting rid of bullets entirely? Brilliant. A gun that never runs out of ammo.”

Francis patted the blaster affectionately before hoisting it again and leveling it at them. 

“Ok, let’s wrap this up. You’ve been very bad, ‘Pool, all those bodies.” Francis clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Gonna have to make sure you remember your real loyalty. Make sure you won’t forget it again.”

“Where’s your bitch by the way?” Francis added, his feigned nonchalance barely concealing his delight at being able to finally play this trump card. Tony felt his blood run cold. Wade hadn’t left any survivors. If they knew about Peter, then they must have been watching them a lot longer than Tony ever thought. Francis continued, talking over the growl building in Wade’s throat.

“He was yours right, that’s what flipped your switch? Don’t worry, tell me where he is and we can have a big happy reunion. That welp was yours too right? Perfect. Things went so well with you, I can’t wait to see what we can accomplish if we started from scratch like that.”

Tony glanced at Wade out of the corner of his eye. The Alpha was nearly _shaking_ with outrage. Tony spared a moment to be grateful once again that they’d convinced Peter to stay behind. Tony wasn’t sure, of course, but he suspected that Peter wouldn’t have been able to help trying to claw Francis’ eyes out by this point.

Francis gave them another moment, as if he actually expected Wade to cheerfully volunteer where Peter was hiding and come groveling back to his side. When, of course, this did not happen, Francis sighed, rolling his eyes theatrically.

“Alright then, guess we’ll do things the hard way,” he shrugged, stepping back behind the line of fire and addressing his men. “Try not to kill the mechanic.”

Wade grabbed Tony’s arm and the room seemed to explode. Wade dragged him back into the tunnel, Tony tripping over his feet, his bad leg threatening to collapse under him. Bullets flew, burying themselves in the far wall, sending up showers of sparks and shattered stone.

“It’s fine, it’s ok,” Wade was muttering under his breath, almost more to himself than to Tony. Tony didn’t see how any of this was “ok.” They were trapped between a slow sloppy retreat back up the driveway or a dash headlong _into_ a hail of bullets to reach a car.

“Go,” Wade urged. “The keys are all in the cars. You just need to get to one and we can scram.” 

Tony hesitated. He wasn’t that fast right now, but Wade was already creeping back to the corner, crouching and lowering his gun to aim. He glanced back at Tony.

“I’ll cover you. Go!”

The gunshots slowed to a stop. They couldn’t get a clean shot at them from this angle and it would be a waste of ammo to just keep firing at the wall. Tony took a breath to steady himself. It was only twenty or thirty feet to the nearest car.

He ran.

Almost immediately, the firing began again. Behind him, Wade let loose some sort of battle cry as he began to return fire.

Tony wrenched the car door open, hearing the bullets punch into the metal as it swung open. His eyes flicked frantically around the consol, hands shaking as he found the keys and shoved them into the ignition. The windshield splintered with a crack. Miraculously, the glass held in place. Tony looked up to see yet another bullet lodged in the glass, just inches from his face.

The car finally started with a lurch and Tony whipped his head around, searching for Wade. Tony found him quickly. He was face down on the concrete, looking like a puppet whose strings had been cut, utterly still.

The gunshots stopped short and Tony could hear the sounds of footsteps, of other car doors being opened and other engines starting. He had to go. If they blocked his exit he’d be trapped. Wade would still be dead and he’d be trapped, and Peter would never learn what happened to them. He needed to go while he had the chance.

But he couldn’t leave Wade there, bleeding out on the ground. He couldn’t be the one to tell Peter his mate was dead and he still didn’t have a fucking body to bury.

Tony slammed on the gas, pulling sharply around Wade’s body, blocking both the corpse and the exit from the pursuing cars. He flung open the door, ducking down to reach him. It could only have been a few moments, but Tony could hear the fresh hail of bullets tearing into the far side of the car.

Tony pulled. Wade was _heavy_ and every inch of him seemed to be slick with blood. The body was _riddled_ with bullets. It wasn’t all blood, Tony realized with a lurch of his stomach, little bits of brain and entrails had escaped as well.

Tony’s bad leg burned, shaking with the effort of hauling Wade’s dead weight off the ground. He pulled the body up into the car. Pushing it to its own seat was too difficult, so Tony slung it over his lap, just managing to slam the door closed after them.

The windows on the passenger side of the vehicle were a mess of bullet holes and broken glass and only getting worse. Tony kept his head low as he spun the wheel. The tires screeched as they raced back up the tunnel and out into the desert. Tony could feel Wade’s blood soaking through his clothes where he rested over Tony’s lap.

It felt like an age before the sounds of gunfire and pursuing cars finally retreated. Wade had yet to move.

Only when he was certain that they had shaken their pursuers did Tony pull over. He let his head fall forward, pressed against the steering wheel, breathing hard.

This had been a mistake. All of it. They never should have gone to Weapon X. What did they even have to show for it? A car ravaged by gunfire and a dead mate to bring back to Peter. Tony sucked in a sharp breath.

He hadn’t really let the truth of it settle yet, but Wade was _dead._ So soon after Peter had gotten him back. God, this was gonna kill him.

Tony slammed a fist against the edge of the steering wheel, biting his lip hard. Wade was an idiot. A stupid self-sacrificing idiot. Tony squeezed his eyes shut.

He needed to put the body in the backseat so he could drive. He needed to get the body back to Peter. What was he going to tell him?

When at last he started driving again, the road was blurry, but Tony ignored it. He wasn’t going to cry for this Alpha he barely knew. Even if he might have cried for what it would do to Peter.

 

\--

 

“Peter?” Tony slammed the door loudly as he got out of the car, trying to make his movements obvious. He couldn’t see any trace of the buggy or of where Peter might have hidden himself. “Peter?”

Tony turned toward a rustle and a cascade of little pebbles as Peter emerged from his hiding spot. 

“Tony!” Peter jogged forward, excitement dropping off his face as he took in the sight of him. Tony knew that even in this darkness Peter would be able to see the blood. “Oh my god.”

Peter stumbled to a halt, grabbing Tony’s arms and running his hands along them, searching for injury. “Are you ok?”

Tony nodded dumbly. “It’s- not mine.”

Peter froze, his hands still Tony’s arms. Then he latched onto Tony’s shirtsleeves with a vengeance, fingers digging into Tony’s biceps. “Where’s Wade?”

For a moment, Tony couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even look at Peter.

“Tony, where is my Alpha?” Peter demanded. Tony swallowed.

“He’s in the car.” Peter stared at him, but Tony couldn’t meet his eyes. He couldn’t do this. He almost wished he and Wade had traded places, just so he didn’t have to be the one to say it to Peter.

A groan wrent the air. Tony leapt back, head snapping toward the car.

“Jesus fucking Christ!”

The back door of the car opened. Tony watched - seeing, but not believing - as Wade swung his feet out of the car. He had his eyes screwed up and was massaging his temples fiercely.

“Does this mean we made it?” He asked groggily.

“What the _fuck?_ ” Tony shouted, even as Peter ran toward him. He heard Peter’s high whine as he ran his hands over Wade’s chest. They came away bloody.

“Shh, it’s ok, it’s ok-” Peter said softly, fervently as he started to pull Wade’s suit away from his body.

“What the _fuck_ ?” Tony said again, pointing at Wade. “You were _dead._ ”

“What?” Peter shot him a confused glance before turning his attention back to Wade.

“Not _that_ dead, I guess,” Wade shrugged, leaning unconsciously into Peter’s touch as his mate continued to search for wounds.

“He’s-- ok?” Peter turned to Tony, eyes searching. Tony shook his head in disbelief.

“But he was _dead._ ” He insisted.

“There isn’t any-- anything.” Peter turned back to Wade, running his hands over Wade’s face like he had trouble believing he was really there.

“Maybe I’m immune to bullets,” Wade offered with a little smirk.

“Nope, you were _definitely_ full of bullet holes.” Tony said firmly. “I saw it. I dragged you into the car. You bled all over my pants. There were more holes in you than a slice of swiss cheese. You. Were. Dead.”

“Well, now I’m not.” Wade looked like Tony’s insistence was beginning to annoy him and he began rubbing his temples again. Peter covered Wade’s hands with his own, using them as a guide on where to apply pressure. He was very quiet.

“Do you think…” Peter said finally, “Do you think this is how you got your leg back?”

Tony frowned, unable to make the connection immediately. Wade glanced up at him as well with a little confused grunt.

“When you fell,” Peter explained. He sounded hesitant, but Tony couldn’t explain why. “I told you, I found your leg. Just your leg. But I know you’ve still got two legs now, so maybe… You said they did things to you. Do you think this is from that?”

Wade’s shoulders slumped. “Maybe.”

“It’s possible, right?” Peter looked back at Tony. “With the radiation and everything everywhere now… and people talking about mutant genes… It could be possible?”

Tony had heard some theories, of course, but he didn’t put much stock in them. He’d never met any of these ‘mutants’ - at least not the kind Peter was talking about. The closest he’d come was Steve, but Tony didn’t know if that counted. The work he’d done with Dr. Erskine to cure his asthma and the other laundry list of health problems Steve had apparently had as a kid seemed more like medicine to Tony. Good medicine, but nothing like what Peter was talking about. Fixing someone’s eyesight and bringing them back from the dead were not quite the same thing. But Peter was looking at him intently and he could smell the anxiety creeping into his scent so he shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Well, dibs on not driving,” Wade said with a level of cavalierness that Tony suspected was just for show. “Zombie exemption rule.”

Tony sighed. Peter hadn’t _asked_ him to drive, but he could see his reluctance on his face. Tony didn’t blame him. If _he’d_ had a scare like that, he’d want to keep close to his mate as well. It was too close a call, even if Wade was still alive.

“Go on,” Tony said to Peter, rubbing the back of his head. “Make sure this resurrection isn’t temporary.”

He almost wished he hadn’t said anything from the look Peter shot him, but the two piled into the backseat anyway while Tony climbed back behind the wheel. They still had a few more hours before sunrise. They might as well make the most of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy moly you guys we are officially halfway through!  
> It occurred to me that some people might rather wait and read everything in one big chunk, so if that’s what you prefer, I think the last chapter be up August 15th ish (2019).


	9. 8. The Desert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio tries to survive in the aftermath of their heist.
> 
> (aka, Exposition, the chapter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: discussions of past character, past child abuse mention, and (previously)underage relationship/sex (Peter and Wade)

“Shit.” 

 

It had been hours since they started driving. Tony knew he should have asked to switch, but Peter had fallen asleep on top of Wade and asking either of them to drive would wake him. In retrospect, Tony should have done it anyway. 

 

He’d driven drowsy before. He’d driven  _ drunk  _ before. And in the middle of the desert there wasn’t much to crash into. Still, perhaps if he’d been more awake Tony would have noticed the low fuel light flick on  _ before  _ the car started sputtering under them. 

 

“Fuck. Wade.  _ Wade. _ ” Tony reached behind him to slap at Wade’s knee to get his attention as he coasted them slowly off the road, the engine stuttering unhappily. “Where are the supplies kept in his thing?”

 

Wade stretched, making Peter groan at being woken. 

 

“Should be in the back,” he mumbled sleepily. “Hang on.”

 

Tony watched in the rearview as Wade turned in his seat to check the trunk of the car. He turned off the car while they waited, casting them into darkness as the headlights dimmed and shut off. 

 

“Fuck, hold on,” Wade said, hopping out of the car and opening the trunk from the back to get a better look.

 

When the sound of Wade feeling around in the back faded to silence, Tony knew something was wrong. “Well?”

 

“I don’t- There’s  _ always  _ supplies back here.” Wade said and Tony could hear the slight edge of panic to his voice. 

 

“Could they have stashed them somewhere else?”

 

“Maybe.” From the way Wade said it, Tony knew he was lying. Nevertheless, all three of them rose to make an effort to search the rest of the car. Of the three of them, Wade seemed the most agitated when they came up with nothing. 

 

“I don’t understand. They always keep the cars stocked. Always.” He insisted. 

 

“We believe you,” Peter told him quickly. “This isn’t your fault.”

 

It hadn’t even occurred to Tony to blame Wade, though he could see how the young Alpha might try to blame himself. Stealing a car from Weapon X had been his idea. He had really believed that they would be ok if they could do it. And maybe they would have, if not for the fact that… 

 

“They knew we were coming.” Tony said suddenly. Wade lifted his head. “Remember what they said? They said they hoped you’d be back. They  _ knew _ we might try something like this.”

 

“You think they took out all the survival gear so that we’d be fucked even if we got away?”

 

“I mean, it sounds like something they might do,” Tony shrugged. Wade obviously had more experience dealing with these people, but they seemed cruel enough to do it. “Could be why they let us get away so easily. They could’ve chased us a lot harder than they did. But if they knew we were gonna end up stranded pretty soon…”

 

There were a lot of holes in the theory. Weapon X couldn’t possibly ensure that even if they  _ did  _ run out of gas, that it would mean being stranded. There were so many ‘ifs’ that couldn’t be accounted for. But it did seem like an adequate parting ‘fuck you’ to let them get away only to die of thirst when they got stuck out in the desert.

 

“Shit,” Tony said under his breath. They were essentially back where they started - maybe worse. The car had maybe another mile in it if they  _ pushed _ but there was no guarantee they’d find anything, no matter which direction they picked to drive in. He and Peter still wouldn’t make it if they tried to just walk. And now they were without even the shade that the abandoned farmhouse had provided. “ _ Shit. _ ”

 

\--

 

The next day they had no better idea of what to do than they had the night before. It was still morning, but already, the heat was beginning to rise off the ground in waves. The sun was still low enough that Tony could stand on one side of the car and be shaded, but he knew it wouldn’t last long. 

 

He took up the post nonetheless, claiming to stand watch, but they all knew there wasn’t much to watch for at this point. Mostly he just wanted to give the couple some semblance of privacy. He thought they both knew the only feasible course of action, but he wasn’t going to rush it. Let them stay together as long as possible. 

 

They had been whispering together so quietly that Tony couldn’t hear what they were saying. His sliver of shade was shrinking quickly when Wade finally spoke up loud enough for Tony to hear him. 

 

“Hey, when was the last time you took a piss?” 

 

“Wade!” Peter squawked.  

 

“No, I’m serious, when was the last time you took a leak?” 

 

“Ugh. I don’t know. Yesterday—- no, maybe not.” Peter groaned, coughing up the information rather than continue bickering. He sighed, trailing off.  “I can’t remember.”

 

“What about headaches?” 

 

“Wade, I’m like five months pregnant,” Peter scoffed, “I almost always have a headache it’s just been bad since last night.”

 

There was a pause before Wade called for Tony.

 

In lieu of proper beds, they had folded the backseat flat to make a larger platform from the trunk bed to the driver’s seat. It was too crowded for three people, so Tony only leaned on the back bumper. Inside, Wade had sat up, but Peter stayed laying on his side, frowning at his mate in annoyance.

 

“We should do something,” Wade said. “I think something’s wrong.”

 

Tony waved a hand at Wade to get him to scoot over before hoisting himself into the back of the car. When he could reach, he put a hand on Peter’s forehead, earning a whine of complaint.

 

“You do feel warm,” Tony admitted.

 

“It’s  _ hot _ . Everything is warm.” Peter whined. 

 

“Yeah, but  _ I  _ was just outside. You’ve been in the shade not moving. You should be cooler than me.” 

 

“It’s fine,” Peter insisted.

 

“Oh yeah?” It felt like arguing with a kid, but Tony was too tired to feel annoyed. “Why don’t you sit up and show me how fine you are?”

 

Peter seemed to consider for a moment before letting out a quiet huff.

 

“Don’t want to,” he grumbled. “It’s hot. ‘M tired.”

 

Tony clicked his tongue and nodded, turning to Wade. “Ok, what’s your plan?”

 

“I think you already know,” Wade grimaced. 

 

“Wade, no,” Peter protested, grabbing Wade’s wrist. “Why do you keep leaving?”

 

“I don’t want to,” Wade admitted, slipping his hand out of Peter’s grasp and intertwining their fingers instead. “But we need water.”

 

“Why do you always have to go?” It was softer this time. Peter really must be tired, Tony thought. He wasn’t usually so clingy, or so unwilling to see reason. “Why do you keep trying to get yourself killed?”

 

“I’m much harder to kill now, remember?” Wade tried to reassure him, squeezing his hand. “I’ve got to. Tony can’t walk very far with his leg, and you know it could be dangerous for the baby. It’s gotta be me.”

 

Peter made a distressed sound in the back of his throat but didn’t contradict him. 

 

“You still have the gun I gave you?” Wade asked Peter. He nodded, and Tony remembered the small pistol Wade had left with Peter before he and Wade had gone to steal the car. It was barely thirty two hours ago but it felt like an age. “Good.”

 

“Shouldn’t you take it?” Tony offered, “Since you’re the one going… out?”

 

Wade shook his head. “You guys keep it. I can always run away if I have to. You two…”

 

Wade’s face tightened and Tony didn’t argue further. It was true: he and Peter couldn’t make a run for it if their lives depended on it. They would more or less be sitting ducks until Wade got back. A single hand gun wouldn’t stave off Weapon X if they caught up, but it might warn off any scavengers who came to pick the car.

 

Wade leaned over to kiss Peter before he started to leave. “Just sit tight, ok? I’ll be back before you know it.”

 

“Don’t die.” Peter warned fiercely. Wade laughed.

 

“Right back at you, sweetcheeks.” Wade turned to Tony, hesitating before he offered his hand. “Take care of yourselves.”

 

“You too.” Tony shook it.

 

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Wade promised. 

 

And then he was gone. He and Peter were alone.

 

 --

 

It had been an entire day since Wade left. Peter had laid down first, late in the evening last night, claiming that moving was too much work, but now, with the sun creeping toward its peak, Tony had to agree. His head was pounding, but there wasn’t anything to do about it, so he lay beside Peter in the back of the car, closed his eyes, and tried to pretend that if he lay still enough everything would stop hurting.

 

“What was their name?”

Peter spoke without opening his eyes. His voice was quiet, like he hoped it could sneak out without disturbing his parched throat.

“Mm?”

“Your mate.” Peter said, cracking open an eye to look at him.

Tony hesitated. He’d thought Steve’s name a million times since his death. He’d even mentioned him a few times now, but not by name. That was different. Personal. Tony looked at Peter. His breathing was deep, labored for all that neither of them had moved in hours. His skin was flushed pink and the dark circles under his eyes seemed to have deepened. He’d let his eyes fall closed again, waiting for Tony’s answer.

They might die here, Tony thought. He was too tired to process more than that, too hot to be scared or even sad.

“Steve.” He said finally. “His name was Steve.”

“An Alpha?”

“No. Beta. But his swings were... intense.” The corner of Tony’s mouth twitched at the memory. Steve built muscle faster than anyone Tony had ever met when he swung Alpha, and lost it faster when he swung Omega. “He swung so hard you’d never guess he’d ever been anything but an Alpha his whole life when he shifted that way. And he almost always swung Alpha.”

“That’s why your rut was so hard?”

“Yeah.” It was true. Tony had been in an Omega swing almost the entire time he and Steve had been together. For a wild moment, Tony wondered what it might have been like to be in Peter’s position, to have carried Steve’s kid. It had been a possibility, sort of. Tony shuddered. He was glad he never had to face Peter’s old reality: of being alone with a kid without the support of his mate.

“What was he like?” Peter interrupted, much to Tony’s relief.

“Um. Blond?” Tony paused again to consider.

“Wade used to be blond,” Peter murmured, almost to himself. “What else?”

“Stubborn. Really really stubborn.” Peter gave a little snort of laughter, encouraging Tony to continue.

“Always looking for a fight. Couldn’t let anything or anyone go. When we fought it was terrible, and we did fight kind of a lot. But he was the type who’d rather break his own arm than do something he thought was wrong. Wouldn’t steal, no matter how hungry we got. Sometimes he’d even give our stuff away if he thought someone else needed it more... god, I hated that. He never accepted that there was something he couldn’t do or someone he couldn’t save.” 

 

_ Even me, _ Tony thought. Tony had always been troubled; it wasn’t as though his problems had all suddenly appeared when Steve died. He’d always been a wreck. It was still strange to think that Steve had been so determined to save him from himself, even when it was so obvious to Tony that he was beyond salvation.

“That’s what happened.” Tony said finally. “He was trying to save the world. Or at least a little part of it, I guess.”

Peter’s silence was poignant, as though holding his breath in anticipation of the rest of the story. Tony sighed and closed his eyes.

“There was a gang. Different gang. Weird skull-octopus symbol, not the X. They had this big stockpile of weapons. Serious weapons, like all kinds of crazy bombs. Made my blasters look like kids’ toys.”

“I guess their plan was to clear out a big swathe and start over from scratch. Make a new country or empire or something. It woulda killed a lot of people. Steve found out about it...” Tony took a deep breath. “So he decided to stop it. I helped him. I didn’t think he was gonna... but I guess that was his plan from the start. Got all the biggest baddest bombs in a truck with him. Drove it off a fucking cliff.”

Tony swallowed hard. He’d been able to feel the reverberations of the explosion even from his position a few miles away. He remembered the way his bones had rattled and he’d just known. He’d known what Steve had done.

“But you didn’t see a body?” Tony startled when Peter spoke. He frowned. He thought he knew where this was headed and he didn’t like it.

“No.”

“So he could still be-“

“No, I don’t think so,” Tony said sharply.

“But-“

“Peter.” It was too painful to think about. Hadn’t he been there, hoping and begging to be wrong? He couldn’t go down that road again. “He drove a  _ truck  _ off a  _ cliff  _ into a canyon. If the impact didn’t kill him, then the explosions from the weapons would have. If that didn’t, then the fucking rockslide it caused would have. If that didn’t, then he still could’ve drowned in the river at the bottom of the canyon. There is no way... it’s not like you and Wade, ok?”

Tony hated that he was angry at Peter for bringing it up, angry at him for getting a happy ending that Tony could never hope for. The kid was only trying to help. And they might be dying. Even so, Tony just couldn’t entertain the idea anymore.

“M sorry,” Peter said finally, and he sounded it. “Where was this? How long ago?”

Tony almost didn’t want to answer. He’d said enough.

“Maybe three years ago,” he relented. “In San Fernando Valley.” 

“My aunt lives kind of near there.” Peter said after a few minutes’ silence. “More near Ravenna, but...”

Tony didn’t say anything. Only fifteen miles away from what might have been ground zero. It was definitely close enough to have been decimated if Steve hadn’t intervened.

“You lived with her three years ago?” Tony guessed. Peter nodded.

“Me and Wade.”

Neither said it aloud, but Tony knew Peter must have been thinking it too: without even knowing it, Steve had probably saved their lives. Steve’s friends - Peggy and Sam - had encouraged Tony to think about it this way before Tony left, to think of how many people Steve had saved with his own sacrifice. Tony had never been able to before. Caring about strangers was Steve’s thing, not his. What did a hundred or a thousand or even a million faceless people mean to Tony in comparison to how he’d felt about Steve?

It was easier than Tony thought it would be to picture a slightly younger Peter, though. He definitely would’ve been a teenager then, if he wasn’t now. His mind filled in the other blanks: a kindly older woman with Peter’s soft brown hair and a raggedy blond teen with Wade’s eyes. A strange little family, completely ignorant of the danger that loomed only a few miles away. _ They’d be dead _ , Tony thought,  _ if not for Steve. _

Tony didn’t know what to feel. He was glad Peter was alive, but if he’d been asked to choose between Steve and that entire population again... he still didn’t know what he’d pick.

“Ok, my turn,” Tony said, rolling onto his side. Fair was fair, he’d answered Peter’s uncomfortable questions so now he got to ask a few of his own. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

“How old is Wade?”

“Twenty-one. Or, wait... I lost track. What month is it? We might be twenty and twenty two. I’m not sure.” Peter didn’t even sound defensive about it, which Tony had expected him to. He was projecting again, he realized. No matter how long they traveled together, Tony just couldn’t wrap his mind around choosing to have a kid at that age. He was still assuming that it should be treated like some kind of embarrassing mistake, despite the fact that Peter and Wade both seemed to be at peace with the decision.

“How long have you been together?” He asked, rather than follow that train of thought further.

“Three years. We’ve only been mates for two though. Unless our birthdays passed? Then it would be another year on top of that.”

“You took a mate when you were seventeen? Your aunt was ok with that?” Tony couldn’t help but feel a little appalled, even though it was pretty common these days to partner off so young. Peter shrugged without opening his eyes.

“She was just glad she managed to hold us off that long, I think.” Peter opened his eyes to give Tony a slightly bemused look. “You really want the whole story? Dirty details and all?”

“Maybe not the dirtiest details,” Tony said quickly, making Peter smirk. “But we’ve got time. It’s not like we’re going anywhere any time soon.”

Peter grimaced at the reminder of their situation. He paused to collect his thoughts.

“Wade’s dad was a piece of shit.” He started. “The worst kind of Alpha. Like, everything bad you can think of a dad doing to his kid? He probably did it to Wade.”

“Eventually his mom died and he didn’t have any reason to stay. Just started walking. Ended up collapsing on the edge of my aunt’s property.” Peter shook his head at the memory. “May was pissed when I brought him back. No talking to strangers and all that. But he was in bad shape. He’d got himself there on a broken leg. And he was only like the fourth or fifth person I’d met who was my age, you know?”

“You were sixteen?”

“No, I was fourteen.”

“You said you’d only been together three years.”

“Yeah, as a couple. I knew him before that. He’d been living in the house with us for almost two year before any of that happened.” Peter sounded a little exasperated and Tony tried to rein himself in.

“That’s basically it though. He stayed with us after that. Tried so hard to be helpful around the place, even when he didn't know how. It- it was so sad. He thought May was an angel just because she didn’t yell or hit him when he messed up. And everything his dad was. Everything he was so scared of becoming... Wade was just the opposite with me. Like he flirted a lot and he made a lot of jokes but he got so nervous anytime anything started getting more intense. He was so gentle…”

“For telling me your sordid backstory, you sure seem to be talking mostly about Wade.” Tony said once it was clear that Peter had lost his train of thought. Tony eyed him. “So what  _ were  _ you talking about earlier?”

Peter came back to himself with a nervous rasping sort of sound that was probably supposed to be a laugh. “It’s not… It’s not a big deal.”

For some reason that made Tony nervous. It sounded too much like a ’we need to talk’ kind of sentiment. And if it truly was ‘not a big deal’ then why would Peter hesitate to tell him? He felt too sick already to spend precious energy beating around the bush.

“What?” He asked shortly. Peter propped himself up on his elbows to look at Tony. The scrutiny only made him more nervous.

“If you want- and you don’t have to- I mean, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want, but we were thinking, maybe, we could stay? Or, I guess, you could stay? We could all stay together? The three of us. Four of us. You and me and Wade and the baby. We could be… I dunno. Like a family, I guess.”

Peter seemed to deflate as soon as he’d said it, and Tony thought again how he always seemed to be misjudging Peter’s thought process. They were stranded in the middle of the desert with next to no supplies and barely any shelter; Tony was trying to accept the inevitability of their deaths, but Peter had such faith that they’d survive that he was talking about the future. Possibly the distant future.

And then there was the shock that Peter  _ wanted _ him around. Ever since Wade had returned, Tony had been waiting for the other shoe to drop. He’d known that Peter probably didn’t  _ need  _ him anymore, not the way he had when Wade had been ‘dead.’ Tony was sure that he would leave eventually with Wade, maybe so soon that Tony would never even see the kid born. He’d be alone again. Which was supposed to be fine because he’d been alone for so long before he’d met Peter. But it wasn’t fine. He was in no place to say it out loud but he loved this weird kid. He wanted to keep helping him and protecting him and he wanted to meet his baby and maybe help it too. He’d never considered that it might be possible to do so.

Tony realized he hadn’t spoken in too long.

“Are you sure?” He said finally, hating how tight his voice sounded. “You just got Wade back. I don’t want to, you know, cause any problems.”

“It was Wade’s idea, actually.” Peter said quietly. That startled him. Since he’d chewed Wade out outside Weapon X’s compound, Tony had assumed Wade thought he was a bitter old man (which he was) and that he was nothing but competition for Peter’s attention. Damn, he couldn’t seem to stop assuming the worst of these kids.

“You don’t have to,” Peter added when Tony didn’t immediately respond.

“Do you want me to?” Tony asked, collecting himself. Peter still looked nervous, but he answered with the same decisiveness he always seemed to have.  

“Yeah. I do.”

“Then I’ll stay.’


	10. 9. Interlude - Wade Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade searches for water and finds help instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: character death mention (Wade), self-destructive tendencies (also Wade)

Wade awoke to hands on his body. In that moment before full awareness, he felt content: Peter couldn’t keep his hands off him since they reunited. Then he remembered.

He was alone. Or, he was supposed to be.

In an instant, Wade was at full alertness. He rolled upright with a growl, baring his teeth and grabbing at the intruder’s wrists. The stranger yelped, flailing, but Wade was stronger. He straddled the stranger, pinning their hands by their head.

“Jesus fucking Christ! What the fresh fuck? You were dead, man, I swear to god, I thought you were fucking dead!” The stranger babbled beneath him, clearly more alarmed than Wade was by the situation.

“I’m not.” Wade growled, not bothering to inform the man beneath him that he was probably right: Wade probably had been dead when he found him. It wasn’t really this guy’s fault; he had no way of knowing Wade wouldn’t  _ stay _ dead. Beneath him, the man continued to run his mouth.

“I seriously thought you were dead, man. What the hell. How are you alive? For real, though I wouldn’ta tried anything if I thought you were still kicking. God damn. Am I fuckin’ dreaming? Don’t tell me my eyes are goin’ now too...” Wade had stopped listening, taking in his visitor and his surroundings while he had the chance.

The stranger looked kind of like him (or how he used to look, anyway). Although, Wade thought that he had definitely been better looking. The Beta was pale skinned and dusty-haired, edging towards blonde. He was older than Wade, he guessed, but not as old as Tony. His nose looked like it had been broken at least twice. He wore a mechanical earpiece that Wade didn’t recognize, which was attached to an eyepiece sitting over his left brow. He wore some kind of weapon strapped to his back, but it was pinned beneath him and Wade couldn’t tell what it was. A wide-brimmed hat lay on the ground nearby, and beside that, a canteen.

The Beta, noticing he had lost Wade’s attention, followed his gaze.

“Uh, you thirsty?” He asked. Wade didn’t answer, distracted.

The Beta reared suddenly, knocking Wade onto his back. He scrambled to his feet and scooped up the canteen. Wade rolled upright, ready for a fight, but it didn’t come.

“Phew, I thought you were never gonna gimme an opening,” the Beta said casually. “Don’t fucking attack me again and I’ll give you some water. Seriously, no fucking tackles, aight?”

Wade said nothing. He didn’t make promises to strangers. Especially ones who’d been trying to rob him. The Beta sighed and handed him the canteen anyway.

It took everything in Wade not to guzzle the whole thing. He couldn’t, he remembered. It would pass right through him at best, or he’d throw it right back up at worst. Still the tiny sips he took were greedy and he kept his eyes on the Beta in case he moved to take it back.

Finally, when his throat was wet enough to speak, Wade raised the canteen.

“Where did you get this?” He asked, his voice still rough. The Beta frowned at him.

“No can say, buddy.” He said firmly. “It’s hard enough to make it out here without randos trying to get in on the goods.”

“Please.” The aggression didn’t leave Wade, but it was flooded over with something worse: desperation. “Please, my mate- the car- we were- please, we’ve got a pup-“

Wade was the one babbling now, stumbling over his words in his haste to try to convince this Beta that Peter, at least, was worth saving. The Beta held up his hands.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down. You’ve got a kid out there?”

Wade shook his head. “My Omega- he’s pregnant.”

“You left your pregnant mate alone somewhere?” The Beta was incredulous. Defensiveness made Wade’s hackles go up instantly.

“We didn’t have a choice! There was a fight! The car died! The people who did this-” Wade gestured at his own scarred face. “They took everything. I left my mate with his... dad to go get help.”

“His dad? You seem unsure about that.”

“They’ll die, ok? Please, they’ll all fucking die if we don’t get water soon!” Wade burst out. If not being able to describe Tony’s relationship to them was the reason he lost this lead, Wade was going to explode. He could feel a lump forming in his throat. They could already be dead. It was so hot and he’d been gone for so long. What if Weapon X came back, and Wade wasn’t there to protect them? Wade didn’t have the moisture left to cry, but he might have if he could.

“Yeesh, ok, deep breaths, big guy. Not gonna let some unborn pup suffer because his sire is an ugly asshole.” The Beta rubbed the back of his neck, thinking.

“Ok, take me to your family and I’ll take you guys somewhere safe. With water.” He said after a minute. He offered a hand to Wade to pull him up. “I’m Clint, by the way.”

“Wade.” Relief flooded him so fast it made him feel weak in the knees. He took Clint’s hand and pulled himself to his feet.

“Good to meet you, Wade. If you’re lying to me, I’ll fucking kill you.” Clint smiled beatifically.

“Right back at you, buddy,” Wade snapped. For the first time in days, he felt a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth.

—

It took hours to find the car again. It was long enough and hot enough that Clint and Wade had begun shooting insults and threats back and forth at each other (only half joking).

It was mid afternoon by the time Wade spotted the car. He ran forward. A little more than a day and a half - not even two days, they could still be ok.

“Pete! Tony!” Wade ran forward. All the doors had been left ajar to try to catch any hint of a breeze. Even as he drew closer, however, nothing seemed to stir within the car.

“Peter?” The longer the silence stretched on, the heavier the knot of dread sat in his stomach. “Pete?”

The car was empty. The car was empty. There was a ringing in his ears. He began to search, even though there was no place for them to hide. Under the car. Under the floor of the trunk. Nothing. No bodies. No blood. Just, vanished.

Clint had caught up. He whistled taking in the scene. Wade paid him no attention. He began to circle the perimeter.

“Peter! Tony! Peter!” His throat burned as he called their names, louder each time, pausing after each name. He was so sure that if he was just a little louder, he’d see one of their heads poke up from some ditch or over some rock. They had to be nearby.

“Wade!” He’d forgotten about Clint and when the Beta reached for him, he pulled away, snarling. Clint lifted his hands, placating. “Hey, it’s ok, man. It’s ok.”

It wasn’t fucking ok. Peter was gone. He was gone and Wade didn’t know where or how long he’d been gone or what could have gotten him to leave the car.

Clint wasn’t so easily deterred. He gave a low sort of purring sound, voice rumbling at the same frequency.

“It’s ok. It’s ok. I believe you. We’re gonna find them. Lemme take a look around, ok? I’m hunter and a tracker. Lemme see if I can find anything out and then we’ll go right after them.”

Wade didn’t believe him, but he had no plan. He gave the faintest of nods and Clint backed away. While he carefully went over the ground near the car, ranging back and forth, Wade went back to circling the perimeter.

He couldn’t stop screaming. He knew it was useless. If they were close enough to hear, they would have responded by now, and the noise could attract more hostile visitors, but Wade couldn’t stop. If he stopped, it meant he’d given up. It would mean taking one step closer to a world where Peter wasn’t in it.

His voice was gone by the time Clint jogged up to him. Wade could barely look at him.

“I dunno, man,” Clint said, brow furrowed. “It really doesn’t look like there was a struggle. I really think they went peacefully, wherever they went.”

Wade stared. He couldn’t have said anything even if he wanted to, but he had no idea how to process this information. Clint watched for his reaction, sighing when it became obvious that that was it.

“Look, come back to my place for a bit, yeah?” He offered. Wade took a step back. No, he wasn’t going anywhere until he knew what had happened to his family. Hell, even finding out what happened to Tony would be something at this point. Clint immediately returned to his raised hands and low purr.

“No, calm down. You want to find them right? You want to find them as fast as possible?” Wade settled slightly at the words and Clint pressed forward. “You’re exhausted. You’re not going to be doing your best job like this. You want to do your best, don’t you?”

He waited for Wade’s growls to quiet before he continued. “Come back to my place. Get some water and food in you. We’ll find my Alpha and she’ll help us. She’s the best at this sort of thing. She’ll be able to find them in no time.”

Wade was still for a long moment. He didn’t know Clint, he didn’t trust him farther than he could throw him, and he desperately wanted to stay at Peter’s last known location. It felt like there was some connection that he’d be severing by moving on into unknown territory.

But the desert was huge. He couldn’t search it by himself. And he needed water, even if he couldn’t technically die. He swallowed hard, his throat still burning, and slowly nodded.

—

It was nearing total darkness when they reached Clint’s house. It was little more than a shack, lopsided with little pinpricks of light shining through small windows. Wade couldn’t bring himself to form more of an opinion about it than that. It didn’t matter.

He’d been silent since they left the empty car, half out of deference to his shredded vocal cords, half because words evaded him. He kept his hands clenched by his sides to keep them from shaking. He knew this feeling, this sensation of being dragged further and further into the Now. The past and the possibility of a future slipped away in the rush of Dark, Cold, Sand, Pain.

Feral. The very edge of it. He knew now that this was how Weapon X had kept him for so long. They’d found this sweet spot to keep him out of his mind with want without pushing him into full insanity.

Only now he  _ wanted _ to give in to it; if this was it, if Peter was gone... at least letting himself slip feral would keep him in the Now. Keep him away from what he’d had and then lost.

Clint had stopped trying to talk to him hours ago. When they reached the house, he undid a series of locks and let them inside.

“Honey, I’m home!” He called ruefully.

“Clint.” They were met by an Alpha waiting cross-armed at a small table. When she stood, her head only reached Wade’s shoulder. She was red-haired and grim-faced. Clint slipped an arm around her shoulders, knocking their foreheads together in greeting. She never took her eyes off Wade.

“More strays?” She asked. Clint’s smile was a little sheepish as he introduced them.

“Tasha, Wade. Wade, Natasha.”

“Wade?” Natasha’s posture changed the moment Clint introduced him. She scanned him again. “You aren’t missing a mate, are you?”

Wade snapped so fast he startled even himself. He reached for her throat, fangs bared, but she was quicker. She grabbed his wrist pushing it to the side and digging her nails into the soft flesh between his veins until he guttered and whined.

“Wade!” Clint smacked him. Actually smacked him: the flat of his palm knocking him gently on the back of the head. It was unexpected enough, so much like chastising a misbehaving dog, that Wade pulled his hand back.

“Stop it. She wouldn’t hurt them.” Clint said firmly. Neither Wade nor Natasha seemed very convinced by this statement. “You found them?”

Natasha nodded. “Bruce is keeping an eye on them downstairs.”

Before Wade had the chance to lash out again, Clint grabbed his shoulder. He steered Wade forcibly to another door, which he yanked open to reveal a staircase. He nudged Wade toward it.

“Go. Just follow your nose.” He said. Wade spared him a single long look before he took off down the stairs fast enough to make Clint nervous he was going to fall and crack his head open.

He breathed a sigh of relief as soon as the volatile Alpha was out of earshot. What a fucking nut job.

Clint eased back into Natasha’s space, pressing his nose to her hair affectionately.

“Look at you,” He crooned playfully. “You brought home some strays of your own? You’re turning into such a softie.”

“Shut up,” she murmured. Her voice lacked venom though, as she leaned against him. For a moment neither of them moved, enjoying the stillness.

“I’m going back out.” She announced shortly. Clint nodded.

“Strange?” He guessed. If things were as dire as Wade had made them out to be, it made sense. She’d probably only stayed this long to make sure he got home safely.

“I want someone to look at that Omega,” she confirmed. “Bruce is good, but...”

Clint lifted a hand to tug lightly at the ends of her hair.

“Do you want me to come with you?” He offered. She shook her head.

“No. I’ll be back soon. Hold down the fort for me while I’m gone.”

—

Tony felt like a burnt piece of meat. Like a half empty water bottle left out in the sun. Like hot gum stuck to the bottom of someone’s shoes. He felt fucking awful.

The room where he lay, however, was a godsend.

They were underground somewhere. The walls and floor were all uneven - stones and packed dirt. There was a small light somewhere in the room, but Tony had barely opened his eyes since they’d settled here. A metal spigot had been jammed into one of the walls and water dripped from it steadily. Tony knew the sound was supposed to be torture, but nothing sounded sweeter to him than a steady supply of water at that moment.

He had been stripped from the waist up, as had Peter, although the jeans that had stopped fitting him weeks ago had been taken away as well, leaving Peter in only his underwear. 

The floor was blessedly cool against his bare skin. He could smell another Omega moving nearby, but he couldn’t really remember their name. It was “A God Damn Angel” as far as Tony was concerned. The Omega kept a steady rotation of wet rags on their overheated skin, replacing them each time a rag got too warm from their body heat.

They might have been there for days or it might have been mere hours. Tony didn’t really care. It was paradise to be in the cool darkness after the merciless heat. He could hear Peter breathing steadily nearby, his occasional shuffling as he tried to get more comfortable on the stone floor.

A sound cut through the stillness. Footsteps. And a smell - Alpha. Maybe the Alpha that had found them? It was hard to tell over the stink of fear.

Tony forced himself to stir. Whatever had scared the Alpha could only be bad. The footsteps stopped short in the doorway and Tony peered through the gloom.

“Wade?” Tony stumbled to his feet, not entirely sure if he was awake or still dreaming. It was definitely Wade. His chest was heaving and his eyes were wild. He stared at Tony before he gave a small cracked sound. Almost like a whimper.

He all but fell into Tony, who wobbled trying to keep them upright. It took long moments to realize he was being hugged. Tony stood half-frozen with confusion before he slowly patted Wade’s shoulder.

“Yeah. Uh. Hello to you too.” He said into Wade’s shoulder where his face had been pressed. Wade didn’t seem to have any intention of letting go and Tony indulged him for as long as he could before he started to squirm.

“Ok, that’s enough, you are way too hot.” Tony complained. The big Alpha seemed to be leeching away all Tony’s hard earned cold and he did  _ not _ appreciate it. Wade let go reluctantly and Tony stepped back.

He knelt beside Peter, Wade close behind him, like a lost puppy, and nudged at his shoulder.

“Hey, kiddo. Time to get up.”

At first Peter groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he pulled away from the heat. Then his nose seemed to catch up to his brain. He eyes snapped open, flicking around the room desperately until he caught sight of Wade. He didn’t even need to speak. Peter held out his arms and whined high in his throat and Wade caught him up in an instant.

It felt like an intrusion to watch the way Wade wrapped himself around Peter, like he was trying to shield him from something, the way they rocked back and forth, clinging to each other without speaking save for the little whines and sighs, a wordless call and response of ‘I’m here, I'm here, I’m here.’

Tony looked away, catching the eye of their Omega caretaker. At least he seemed equally awkward in the face of such an open display of affection. Gesturing to show Tony where the rags were, the Omega excused himself. Tony almost found himself wishing he could do the same, but the excitement had already worn him down.

Tony settled on the ground beside the couple with a long sigh. Even now that they were somewhere safe and Wade had returned, Tony felt reluctant to leave Peter unguarded. Slowly, Wade lay them down, putting Peter between him and Tony, keeping his head cradled on his arm.

“Was really worried.” Peter finally whispered. “Didn’t think you’d come back.”

Wade’s answering wheeze might have been a laugh. It was a very poor imitation of one, if it was. Pity swelled unexpectedly in Tony’s chest: at least he and Peter had been together. Wade had been alone.

“Told you he’d show up again.” Tony muttered when it became clear Wade wasn’t going to defend himself. Wade’s head snapped toward him. There was an odd look on his face.

_ He doesn’t think I believed in him _ , Tony realized. The thought made him feel a little guilty: Wade wasn’t much older than Peter after all and he’d been through hell. It was something to think about more later.

“ _ You _ were worried?” Tony didn’t immediately recognize the rasping as words. It was so thin and rough. It barely sounded like Wade at all. “The car was empty... couldn’ta left a note?”

The joke fell flat. Peter had begun a quiet purr, his fingertips gently tracing Wade’s throat in concern. Tony couldn’t help but agree. What the hell had happened to his voice?

“Sorry.” Peter said finally. Wade shook his head.

“Don’t be. This's way better than the car.” That attempt at humor landed a little better, even if Peter hushed him quickly.

“Stop it. Your poor throat.”

They stayed that way for what felt like a long time; touching as much as they could stand to when the heat still seemed unbearable, moving as little as possible. Wade eventually took over the rags, soaking them in water before passing them back for he and Peter to suck the water out of. The cloth tasted like sweat from where it had lain against their skin, but Tony didn’t care. The water itself was cold and clear and he felt like he could die happy.

After some time (it was hard to tell how much without the sun), the “God Damn Angel” Omega returned, carrying a basket. He approached the doorway slowly, watching the three of them to make sure none were prone to any territorial outbursts before he entered. He smelled odd to Tony. Like he’d just come out of a heat. Tony didn’t think he’d smelled like that earlier, but he couldn’t say for sure.

“Do you remember meeting me?” He asked as he sat near their makeshift nest-pile. Peter shook his head, but Tony nodded. “I’m Bruce. I brought you some food.”

He pushed the basket toward them, clearly still taking precautions despite their relatively relaxed state. Wade was the one to take the offering and begin sorting through it. It wasn’t much, which was a relief (Tony thought he might be sick if he had to eat almost anything, and he guessed Peter might feel the same): a packet of hard crackers, a can of mandarin oranges, and... rocks?

Wade could comfortably fit three or four of the misshapen white rocks in his palm. He glanced at Bruce curiously.

“It’s salt.” He explained. “Just so the water has something to stick to, to help keep it in your system.”

“Oh, Clint also mentioned that you’d hurt your throat,” Bruce added, reaching into one of his pockets. Wade coughed quietly once, cleared his throat, and grinned at him sheepishly.

“I, uh, I think it’s better now.” He said. Bruce stopped short before he could pull whatever it was out of his pocket. Wade still sounded hoarse, but it was more like he just needed a good drink now than the pathetic whistle his voice had been before. Tony couldn’t help but snort at the astonished look on Bruce’s face.

“Wade heals fast,” Peter said, sounding more than a little smug.

“I see.” Bruce’s expression had moved from shocked to intrigued. He opened his mouth as though to ask about it further and just barely stopped himself.

“Well, I took a quick look at you two,” Bruce gestured to Peter and Tony, “And you look like you're out of any immediate danger to me.”

“You’re a doctor?” Tony asked. Bruce shook his head.

“I’ve had some training, but it’s not really my area. Natasha’s gone to get a real doctor though, a friend of ours, just in case.”

_ In case of what, _ Tony wanted to ask. And then realized abruptly that he didn’t want to know the answer.

“He _ is _ a real doctor.” Bruce assured Tony, misinterpreting his skepticism. He turned his gaze to Peter, even though he continued to address all of them. “Will you let him look at you when he gets here?”

Peter hesitated, wrinkling his nose unhappily at the idea. After a moment though, he nodded, which Bruce seemed to take as agreement from all of them.

“Great. There are blankets in the next room if you get cold. Holler if you need more food.”

In the quiet that followed the three made a passing effort to eat. Peter refused more than a few bites of cracker.

“It makes me thirsty,” he complained.

“I think that’s the point, kiddo.” Tony told him, watching him carefully until he at least finished the one in front of him. The oranges were just as much of a struggle. He let himself be talked into three segments before he put his foot down and demanded the syrup they’d been suspended in. The salt, at least, went over much more easily. Of the six crystals they’d been given, they gave Peter four and split the remaining two between them. Peter dropped them straight into the canning liquid from the oranges and drank it all without complaint. He seemed to enjoy it so much, in fact, that curiosity eventually got the best of Wade and he persuaded Peter to let him have a sip.

Wade shuddered as he swallowed.

“Babe, you know that’s kinda disgusting, right? It literally tastes like candy sweat. Sweat-candy.”

“If this kid makes me want gross stuff, those are definitely your genes talking, not mine.” Peter sniffed. He sipped his so-called ‘sweat-candy’ in silence for a moment before slumping against Wade with a sigh. “Ugh. I hate doctors.”


	11. 10. The Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha summons a doctor to examine the trio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: discussions of potential miscarriage mentions, discussion of potential character death, allusions to past human experimentation (Wade)

 

“Oh my god.”

Peter sat up with a gasp, startling the other two into alertness. Pushing himself upright, Tony immediately blanched.

Peter was wide-eyed, mouth open, both hands on his stomach. Wade was already touching his back, barely concealing his own panic.

“Babe? What is it? What’s wrong?”

Peter gaped at him for a moment, mouth moving without forming words. He grabbed one of Wade’s wrists, placing his hand on his belly. Tony hovered, watching Wade’s face as it transformed from concern to confusion to shock.

“What?” Tony demanded. “What is it?”

He was having trouble clamping down on his own worries and the couple’s stunned silence was making it worse. Peter and Wade reached for him simultaneously, guiding his hand to join theirs.

For a minute, Tony couldn’t tell what he was supposed to be feeling. It felt... odd. A little like feeling water sloshing inside a canteen when you were riding in a car, but with more... tumbling. A little more irregular. Movement. And then, the pieces clicking into place, Tony felt his own eyes widening.

“Oh my god,” he echoed quietly.

It was moving. The baby, which had stayed an amorphous sort of idea in Tony’s head, was moving. Here was some physical proof besides Peter’s slowly swelling stomach that it was real. It was big enough that they could  _ feel _ it moving. Frankly, it was a little stomach churning.

“Fuck.” It was the first thing Peter had managed to say, a breathless sort of whisper. He hunched his shoulders, slowly curling over his stomach, almost protectively. Tony withdrew his hand.

“Petey?” Wade had returned to petting his back. “Baby boy? You ok?”

Obviously, he wasn’t. Tony could hear Peter’s deep shuddering breaths. Like he was trying not to cry, Tony realized. But Peter nodded without lifting his head.

“Yeah, I just— after everything—“ he stopped abruptly to keep from choking on his words. He swallowed fruitlessly, trying to keep his voice from cracking. “I didn’t know if it— would be ok.”

The weight of Peter’s relief - the release from this monumental fear he hadn’t shared - pressed on Tony’s chest. He glanced at Wade, glad that he at least seemed equally thunderstruck.

It was incredibly common, what with the way people lived now. It couldn’t be helped. There just wasn’t enough to go around and the most vulnerable people suffered for it the most. As far as Tony knew, in fact, it was far more unusual for pregnancies to run smoothly than it was for there to be complications. And yet, despite knowing this, he hadn’t really thought about the possibility of miscarriage.

Tony was surprised by his own revulsion. He’d been the one thinking of trying to convince Peter to terminate the pregnancy. He’d been the one resenting how much it drained Peter, how it clearly put him in a higher risk situation than the rest of them. More than once he’d thought it might be better if this all somehow just... stopped. But the reality of it was terrifying. What would it even mean to be carrying a dead thing, no matter for how short a time?

Tony looked again at the couple. He didn’t want to think about the other side of that coin. Aside from the visceral disgust, there was the loss, the mourning, the collapse of some possible future. It made his throat tighten just to think about in passing.

“We, uh,” Wade said suddenly, pausing to clear his throat. “We should probably stop calling it an “it.”

It took Tony a moment to realize what Wade was trying to do.

“With two male parents, it’ll probably be male too. We could call it ‘he?’ Tony offered quickly, letting Wade pull a melodramatic expression of disgust.

“You want to start pushing pronouns on our kid before it can even walk?” He huffed.

“All of us got ‘he’ pushed on us and we turned out ok,” Tony reasoned. Wade scoffed.

“Speak for yourself.”

It was easy to let Wade tug him around verbally, playing at bickering, and it was entirely worth it. The threat of catastrophe seemed to loom less heavily in the face of their brevity. And giving the baby something as human as pronouns made it feel more real.

“It’s like shoes, I guess,” Wade sighed dramatically, wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders. “We’ll just have to accept that the kid might outgrow whatever we give them.”

“I don’t mind starting with ‘he’,” Peter said finally, and Tony knew that Wade was just as relieved to hear the tears gone from his voice. “We can always change it later.”

 

—

 

The next day was surprisingly calm. 

 

Although he was reluctant to leave Peter’s side, Wade eventually left to accompany Clint out into the surrounding wilderness. Scavenging the area was a daily part of Clint’s routine, and since they had no way to repay Clint and Natasha for sheltering them, Wade had agreed to lend his assistance as long as they stayed. 

 

Truthfully, Wade hadn’t wanted to go at all. His separation from the group had rattled him badly, leaving him half-convinced that Peter and Tony would vanish again the moment he left the room. His attitude changed, however, after Tony reminded him that Weapon X might have intentionally stranded them. The possibility that they had been followed hadn’t slipped any of their minds.

 

Wade went more easily after that, for all that they didn’t catch any sign of trouble.

 

Peter and Tony’s day was much more boring. Bruce gave them clothes to replace the ones he’d taken off them yesterday and encouraged Tony and Peter to rest. While Peter took the instruction well, Tony did not. Where Peter was used to being kept behind over concerns for the pup, Tony chafed at being told he couldn’t do something. 

 

At the very least, he seemed to be providing some form of entertainment for Peter every time Bruce turned down his offers to help around the house.

 

“Now you know how I feel,” Peter had all but cackled. 

 

\--

 

He and Peter were finishing lunch on the second day when Natasha finally returned, (though Tony could hardly call it ' _ eating _ lunch' when Peter still seemed averse to anything particularly solid).

Much to Peter's disappointment, their hosts hadn't had any canned green beans, but they _had_ had canned chickpeas. Tony had worried that Peter might refuse even these, but he took to them with gusto. At least, he took to the _canning liquid_ with gusto.

"Can you please eat just two more spoonfuls?" Tony was exasperated. Sometimes it felt like it was hard to tell if Peter was having a child or if he was the child. Peter wrinkled his nose.

"The texture is weird." He complained, not for the first time.

"Pete!" Their conversation was cut short by the sound of Wade coming down the stairs. He'd started wearing his full suit again, including the mask, to go outside. It was obvious he didn't like it (and the suit was still full of bullet holes from when Weapon X had shot him), but it still provided excellent protection from the sun, which was something his mutilated skin desperately needed. Even so, he pulled the mask off as soon as he entered the room. "Their Alpha's back. She's got the doctor with her."

Peter's hackles instantly went up.

 

\--

 

The doctor, when he arrived, was almost exactly what Tony had expected. He looked like he was within five years of Tony's age, but it was difficult to tell in which direction. The man was tall with pale but sun-damaged skin. His hair and beard were dark, but shot through with grey. Overall, he was greyer than Tony, but that didn’t do much to give him a better estimate of the doctor’s age. Natasha and Bruce accompanied him, Bruce carrying a chair, which he set down in the room.

“This is the friend we mentioned,” Bruce said. Maybe they thought that by having Bruce be the spokesperson, it would make it easier for all of them (mostly Peter) to accept the stranger’s presence. After all, Bruce had spent the most time with them, helping them get settled, and he was a fellow Omega. As for the doctor, Tony couldn’t immediately tell what his scent was, which made him guess Beta or maybe Delta.

“Doctor Strange,” The man introduced himself. He held out a hand. Peter, from his seat on the floor, made no move to take it. Neither did Wade, who had settled behind him protectively, his legs bracketing Peter in on either side. The silence dragged out awkwardly until Tony moved forward to shake the doctor’s hand.

“Tony,” He said, then gestured over his shoulder to the couple. “That’s Peter and Wade.”

The doctor let go quickly, but not before Tony caught a glimpse of his hands. They were webbed with scars. Tony was impressed that he was able to uncurl his fingers at all with how heavy the scarring was.

Natasha and Bruce cleared off quickly to give them privacy, but Tony almost wondered if it would have been better for them to stay. He didn’t know if it was because Strange was unfamiliar or because he was a doctor, but Tony could smell the discomfort rolling off Peter. And Wade for that matter.

“Your situation has been explained to me,” Strange said briskly. He set his bag down and pulled out a small bottle. Under the spigot he used the contents to quickly wash his hands before he turned back to them, focusing on Peter. “May I examine you first?”

To Tony’s surprise, Peter  _ growled _ . He stopped abruptly, looking startled, only to start up again a moment later. It was perhaps the first time Tony had seen Peter react aggressively in a non-emergency scenario. Even Wade seemed a little surprised, wrapping his arms around Peter’s shoulders with a tentative sort of purr. 

 

Tony and Wade shared a significant look. This could be a problem. Even if Peter logically knew it would be safer to get checked over, there wasn’t much they could do if he instinctively refused to let the doctor near him. They weren’t going to hold him down and  _ force  _ him to get looked at, after all.

“Uh, why don’t I go first?” Tony volunteered. Strange considered for a moment, then nodded.

“Would you prefer some privacy?” He glanced at the couple.

“Uh, no, that’s fine. They can stay,” Tony said quickly. He hoped that by submitting to the examination first, Peter could see that it was harmless. Having him leave would defeat the purpose. Besides, it shouldn’t be too invasive for something supposedly routine and there wasn’t much of each other that they hadn’t already seen in their months traveling together.

Strange pointed him to the chair, where he had Tony remove his shirt. Luckily, the entire ordeal was very anticlimactic: Strange listened to his breathing through a stethoscope, took his pulse with those long scarred fingers pressed against Tony’s neck and then his wrist, and gently pinched the skin on the back of his hand to test the elasticity and gauge how well he’d rehydrated. He had Tony turn around to check his spine, his reflexes, his eyes and ears. He seemed about ready to wrap up after noting Tony’s weight, when Peter spoke.

“What about his leg?”

The examination had been unexpectedly relaxing, breathing deeply while Strange methodically touched him with those cool hands, so Tony didn’t immediately understand Peter’s concern. Strange, however, zeroed in on the comment.

“What happened to his leg?”

“He got shot.” Wade chimed in.

“When?” Strange seemed almost offended. “Why didn’t anyone mention it sooner?”

“Forgot,” Tony said. In his defense, he’d been absolutely sure he was going to die at least twice in the last week. It hardly mattered what condition his leg was in if he was nothing but a corpse.

“You  _ forgot _ getting shot?” Strange’s distant, professional manner seemed to be weakening around the edges. It was oddly satisfying. Tony smirked and nodded defiantly. “Pants. Off.”

“Jeeze, doc, on the first date? I’d never have taken you for the type.”

Tony was quick to regret his words when, pants discarded, Strange began to examine the wound. His gentle touch was gone along with the remnants of his bedside manner, and Tony tried very hard not to hiss or curse at him. Peter was still watching after all. Letting on that it hurt like a bitch didn’t seem like the best way to convince him to get looked at.

“How old is this?”

“Uh four… five days? Maybe a week? Wait, no, maybe a little longer?” Now it was hard to tell. How long had he and Peter spent in the desert after the car ran out of gas? How long had they laid in this room before Wade showed up? The old grain silo felt like years ago, but it really hadn’t been more than a few days ago, had it? Strange scoffed, which almost made Tony want to smack him;  _ he _ wasn’t the one who got shot, what was his problem?

Finally Strange returned to his bag. He pulled out a jar filled with a foul smelling paste, which he packed the wound with, before redressing the leg with clean bandage.

“Well, it doesn’t  _ look _ like you’ve got blood poisoning,” Strange said when he was done. His tone suggested that he was just barely keeping himself from adding  _ ‘no thanks to you. _ ’ “There is some shrapnel left behind, though. I can talk to Banner about extracting it if you want, but it’s already begun to heal over and there are risks to consider when it comes to reopening the wound. Other than that, you don’t seem to be in  _ mortal _ peril. You could stand to gain some weight, but that isn’t unusual. I’d say you’ve overcome the heat exhaustion, pretty well.”

“Gee, thanks.” The good doctor hadn’t told Tony anything new and it seemed like an awful fuss to go through the entire examination just to get told things he already knew. Then Tony remembered that they had no way to repay the doctor for his services. He cleared his throat and tried to sound more appropriately grateful. “Really, thank you.”

“Peter, will you go next?” Tony asked, pulling on his clothes again. The kid still looked uncomfortable, but he nodded, having watched Tony go through the process and come out unscathed. Relatively speaking.

When he struggled to get up under the weight of his stomach, Tony offered his hand. The two traded places, Peter settling on the edge of the seat and removing his shirt when Strange asked.

The exam proceeded almost exactly the same as Tony’s had, Strange washing his hands before checking his breathing and his pulse. Once he’d moved past these preliminary examinations, Strange moved to touch Peter’s stomach.

Immediately, the kid’s hackles went back up and the growling began again. Strange pulled his hands back.

“Sorry,” Peter said through gritted teeth. “I can’t help it. Keep going.”

Strange continued, carefully feeling around the bulk of his belly. Tony had no idea what the doctor was searching for, but he at least didn’t seem alarmed when he finally pulled his hands away. Peter quieted almost instantly.

Strange sighed through his nose, obviously somewhat exasperated by dealing with such an uncooperative patient.

“There are closer examinations I could make at this point, but given your reluctance, I think it can wait.” He said. Putting his stethoscope back into his bag, the doctor noticed the half eaten can of chickpeas.

“You like these?” He asked, holding up the can to show Peter.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t lie to your doctor, Pete, you know you’re only in it for the can water,” Tony teased, rolling his eyes.

“The texture’s weird,” Peter insisted, nearly whining.

“Your appetite hasn’t come back yet?” Strange asked, raising an eyebrow. “How far along did you say you are?”

“Like, twenty weeks, I think? Maybe a little more?” Some of the fight seemed to go out of Peter at the questions. “Is that... bad?”

“Well, of the things you could be binging, this is probably the best,” he sighed. “But do try to eat more if you can. Even if it’s just eating more of the beans in the can. Whatever you can manage.”

Strange continued his line of questioning, asking about his sleep, his general pain, even briefly about his bowel movements. The only time Peter seemed to perk up was when asked if they’d felt any movement from the baby yet. Tony couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride at Peter’s account of the pup moving.

Finally, Strange seemed satisfied.

“We’ll have to wait to see if there are any long term effects of the dehydration, but for now just avoid anything that will make you lose water unnecessarily. Keep drinking your... ‘can juice’, and try to see if you can handle some more solids.”

Peter stood from the chair, obviously relieved to be through with the ordeal, only for Strange to gently grab his arm to get his attention.

“You need to make hydration your top priority. I’m not saying this to scare you, but there are serious risks that come with being that dehydrated.” He said. “You got lucky this time, you understand? Do not rely on getting lucky again.”

Peter tensed but nodded solemnly. Tony did not like the sound of that, but Peter was so obviously stressed already that he didn’t dare ask what sort of ‘risks’ the doctor meant. At least not within earshot.

Before any of them had a chance to brood on the warning too deeply, Strange was washing his hands again and summoning Wade for his turn.

“Y’all mind if I go upstairs for this one?” Tony asked. Wade, who had been quiet through most of the proceedings, had shifted from ‘uncomfortable’ to ‘bordering on panic.’ Given his healing abilities, Tony knew he’d be fine physically, but mentally? Tony would hardly be helpful if anything took a turn for the worst. Both Peter and Wade nodded and Tony retreated to the upstairs.

Clint and Bruce sat at the kitchen table, talking quietly together, but they looked up when Tony arrived.

“Where’s Natasha?” Tony asked, taking a third chair next to Bruce.

“Sleeping. It’s a long trip to get Strange out here and I don’t think she stopped much.” Clint explained.

“How are the kids?” Bruce asked.

“Remains to be seen.” Tony said cryptically, shrugging in hopes that the gesture would downplay his concern. “That is one  _ Strange _ doctor.”

“Ha ha.” Bruce rolled his eyes. “Did he do something stra— uh,  _ weird _ or was that just a bad pun?”

“Dude is all over the place, that’s all. I can’t tell if his regular personality is ‘being an asshole’ or if it’s ‘shy and retiring house doctor.’” Tony said, remembering the grief Strange had given him over his leg only for him to turn around and quietly intuit Peter’s boundaries and only push as far as he had to.

“Both.” Clint said unhelpfully.

“He knows his stuff,” Bruce added. “He used to be an incredible surgeon.”

“Used to?” Tony’s curiosity sparked.

Before he had the chance to pry further, the good doctor himself came back up the stairs carrying the chair they’d been using for the examinations. He placed it back at the table across from Tony and nearly fell into it. He immediately leaned back and shut his eyes.

“Well, Doc?” Tony asked. “What’s the verdict.”

“That Alpha,” Strange took a deep breath without opening his eyes. “His cellular regeneration is remarkable. I wish I could study it further but...”

“But?” Tony prodded.

“You know some of what he’s been through. How do  _ you _ think he reacted to scientific enthusiasm after all that?” Strange opened an eye to glare at Tony. _Ugh. True._

“They’re fine. They’re cooling off downstairs together.” Strange added, closing his eyes again.

“Hey, what did you mean risks?” Tony asked quickly before the doctor could get too comfortable. Now was a good time to ask, with Peter and Wade downstairs and unlikely to overhear.

“Mm?”

“Downstairs. You said there were “serious risks” involved.”

“There are.” Strange sat up finally, folding his arms over his chest. “There’s always a risk, but at the Omega’s age, and with his standard of living? It would have been safer to terminate the pregnancy as soon as he found out about it.”

Tony felt suddenly self conscious. He _had_ thought about encouraging Peter to terminate it, but health had never come to mind when  _ he’d _ been thinking about it. His reasons were entirely fueled by his own panic.

“Just statistically, the mortality rate for both parties is... less than desirable. It’s hard for anyone to maintain optimal health in this day and age. But to do it for a pregnant person? It’s  _ difficult _ .” Strange finished.

Tony felt his stomach flip uncomfortably. When he’d said ‘risks’ he’d been thinking about possible birth defects or maybe injury during delivery. He hadn’t considered anything fatal. Especially not in regard to Peter.

“But it  _ is _ possible?” Tony hated how much his voice betrayed his fear. Beside them, Clint and Bruce had gone very quiet. Strange frowned.

“I suppose. Nothing is absolute, especially when it comes to the human body. It could be possible.” Strange said, slower this time, like he was trying to consider his words more carefully.

“But  _ Peter _ ? Specifically?” Tony interrupted. He didn’t want a doctor’s placations, he wanted answers. Strange shifted uncomfortably in his seat, hesitating before he spoke.

“Look, the odds are not in your favor on this. We lost so much after the fall. We don’t have the resources to see how the fetus is developing internally. We don’t have the resources to do blood tests for the Omega. We can’t take many preventative measures because we don’t know what we are trying to prevent. Even if he and the baby survive the birth, there are complications we can’t predict that could show themselves down the line. Those are just the facts.”

Tony clenched his fists against his legs. For the first time in months, he wished he’d pushed Peter to terminate the pregnancy back when it had been possible. He felt guilty for the thought almost as soon as it had formed. Peter has said firmly that this was what he wanted. Why was it so hard to let the kid’s choice lie? Probably because of just that; he was still a kid to Tony. Nineteen was technically an adult but it felt so fucking young.

“That’s not to say something bad  _ will _ happen.” Tony was surprised by Strange’s tone. It wasn’t exactly embarrassed but it was definitely the most flustered he’d seen the doctor so far. “It could just as easily go smoothly. I’m most concerned about the dehydration prompting preterm labor but that’s something you guys can actually combat.”

Tony stared at him.  _ This must be his version of comforting someone, _ Tony realized slowly. Weird. How could he have been a doctor for this long and yet be so flustered by a patient’s grief? Strange must have taken his silence for judgement because he looked away quickly.

“Look, I’ll keep a close eye on both of them, ok? We’re gonna do everything we can.” Tony finally took pity on the doctor and nodded.  _ What if your ‘everything’ isn’t good enough,  _ he wanted to demand. But he didn’t. They were nobody to the doctor, after all. He must have lost dozens of patients already. What were two more? Especially two more who couldn’t pay.

Tony stood, mumbling something about checking on the kids before he practically fled back downstairs.

Clint watched him go before rolling his eyes and leaning back in his seat.

“That might be the best bedside manner I’ve ever seen from you, Strange,” he smirked, drawing a glare from the doctor.

“All I’m hearing is you volunteering to foot the bill,” he grumbled. His face was flushed, Clint noted with amusement.

“Pfft, yeah right. Maybe you’re the one with the hearing problem,” Clint scoffed, tapping just below his own hearing aid. “Tasha, stop skulking around; eavesdropping is rude.”

Natasha emerged from the hall where she’d been listening quietly. Strange rubbed the back of his neck, voice reluctant when he spoke.

“You know they’ll both die if they go back out on their own, don't you?" He was addressing Natasha mostly, but he looked torn about whether or not he should be speaking at all.

"I'm not telling you to let them stay," he said quickly, "But that  _ is _ what will happen if they try to make it alone again. There just isn't enough food or water in one place to sustain them and they won't be able to move from place to place fast enough to make up the difference."

"I know." Natasha leveled her gaze at the doctor. "That's why they're staying."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up! From here on out it WILL be more focused on pregnancy stuff. Obviously, there's going to be a lot of other plot stuff too, but if pregnancy/childbirth squicks you out, you may want to proceed with caution. I will continue to tag specific chapters in the notes at the top, but please let me know if you would like any additional/specific things tagged as well.


	12. 11. Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio begins to settle into their new home. Natasha offers Peter self-defense lessons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: allusions to violence and rape, PTSD, mentions of mind control, brief nsfw mention
> 
>  
> 
> Apologies as this chapter is quite short. It didn’t matter which way I sliced it, this bit just stayed short. However, there is hopefully something to make up for it detailed in the end of chapter notes. :0

After Strange’s grim warning, there was very little debate about letting the trio stay, at least until the baby was born. There was still a fear that had settled into Peter and Wade’s shoulders ever since their rescue from the desert, but it was eased somewhat by the promise of water and shade. Tony knew it was kind of stupid, but he was a little jealous of Natasha and her group. They had been able to provide them with shelter and relative safety when Tony had not.

  
  


Natasha didn’t ask for payment, but they tried to offer it anyway. Wade took to going out with Clint and Natasha on their daily hunts and scavenging expeditions. For Peter and Tony, it was less obvious how to help.

  
  


Tony still wasn’t used to being… unnecessary. He wasn’t useless. He spent long hours with Bruce discussing the water filtration and storage system and he’d already come up with a few designs to make it more efficient. He helped modify Natasha and Clint and Wade’s weapons, slowly converting them from using ammunition to using concentrated energy. But it wasn’t  _ necessary.  _ If Tony vanished, they would all survive without him. Tony had thought that the responsibility of their survival had been a burden, but he felt at something of a loss now that it had been lifted.

 

Moreover, he wasn’t used to being considered vulnerable. His leg had healed… mostly. Tony hated to think that the damage was permanent, and he did his best to keep it limber by walking up and down the stairs and occasionally circling the house, but the limp had yet to go away. Peter smirked every time Tony’s offer to help hunt or scavenge was turned down. He, at least, was glad to have someone else relegated to the ‘dependent’ category besides himself.

 

—

 

It was a difficult balance between wanting sunshine and wanting to stay out of the heat. Peter (and Tony for that matter) had hardly gone outside since they’d arrived. In the mornings, when the sun was up but still bearable, they often sat upstairs to socialize with Bruce and soak up the sun’s rays before the day  grew too hot. As the sun rose higher and the day grew warmer, they would retreat downstairs to the cool underground rooms below. Their hunters followed a similar pattern - leaving before dawn when the day was cool and returning to spend the hottest hours of the day indoors before heading back out to hunt in the twilight.

 

It was one such lazy afternoon when Natasha propped her head up and turned to Peter.

 

“Can you fight?” She asked. Peter looked puzzled. 

 

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, usually.” He gestured to his stomach to indicate what exactly might be stopping him.

 

“You guess?” Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Either you can or you can’t, which is it?”

 

“I can use a gun.” Peter shrugged.

 

“Can you fight,  _ hand to hand, _ ” Natasha clarified. Peter wrinkled his nose.

 

“I try not to get into fights I know I’ll lose,” He said flatly, and Tony couldn’t help but think he had a point. Peter was relatively small: most of his opponents would have height and weight over him. 

 

“Sometimes the fight comes to you,” Natasha told him, beginning to stand. “Alright, get up.”

 

“Why?” Peter stood with only a little difficulty.

 

“I’m going to teach you to fight.”

 

“I know how to fight,” he grumbled.

 

“Do you know what to do if someone bigger and stronger grabs you? Do you know how to break a chokehold?” Natasha somehow managed not to sound condescending. “Let me guess - you’re quick and you rely on getting away before anyone can catch you and using long range weapons when you need to go on the offense.”

 

Peter didn’t say anything, but a flush began to creep up his cheeks. Natasha nodded and continued.

 

“You can’t rely on that. You’re slowed down right now and you’re gonna continue to be slow until your kid is old enough to keep up with you.”

 

Tony had to admire the tactic. He wasn’t thrilled about shaming the kid into cooperating, but it was a clever strategy. And technically Natasha wasn’t lying.

 

Tony watched lazily as Natasha showed Peter how to plant his feet, how to make a fist so that he could punch someone without breaking his thumb, before she moved on to different grips. Natasha drilled him for the better part of an hour before she declared that it was enough for one day.

 

The following day, and the day after were much the same. The hottest part of the day was spent underground with Natasha, going over ways to break someone’s grip, how to wriggle out of different holds, where to punch, where to pinch, how to bring an opponent to their knees. Tony had to excuse himself for some of it. He was glad someone was teaching Peter what to do if anyone – if an  _ Alpha­ – _ had him pinned on his back, but watching them… watching Natasha demonstrate the technique by wedging herself between his thighs… it was too graphic for him. He couldn’t look without feeling sick, even knowing it was strictly educational.

 

To Tony’s surprise, Wade also refrained from watching the training. After how territorial Wade had been, Tony had expected him to object to another Alpha spending so much time in close contact with his mate. He had expected him to at least insist on staying in the room, but Wade kept to himself in those hours. For all that he never said anything about the lessons (at least, not where Tony could hear), Tony could tell that  _ something _ was making Wade uncomfortable.

 

It took almost another full week for the issue to come to light.

 

“I think you need another sparring partner,” Natasha told Peter one day.

 

“What? Why?” Peter’s shoulders went up defensively.

 

“You’re getting too used to my size.” She said. “Most of the people who try to pull something on you won’t be the same build as you. You need to learn on someone bigger and taller.”

 

It was a fair point, Tony thought. Natasha and Peter were actually almost the exact same height. Natasha had a bit more muscle on her than Peter, but if not for the extra weight of the child, Peter would probably have roughly matched her weight as well. Peter, satisfied that the reason for the change wasn’t through some fault of his own, readily agreed.

 

“I’ll ask Wade,” he nodded. He left the room and reappeared a moment later with Wade in tow.

 

“I don’t think this is a good idea, babe,” Wade shifted his weight from foot to foot.

 

“Nat said I need another sparring partner.” 

 

“Yeah, but,” Wade seemed to struggle with himself for a moment. “Can’t Clint do it?”

 

“I don’t want to wrestle Clint,” Peter looked close to pouting at Wade’s unexpected reluctance.

 

“I just don’t want to hurt you or anything,” Wade said quickly.

 

“You won’t. I trust you.” Peter assured him. Wade seemed to have run out of protests and let Natasha show him what he was supposed to do. Peter settled into the stance she had taught him, waiting for Wade to make the first move. 

 

“Go on,” Natasha prompted him when Wade didn’t look like he was going to move. Obediently, Wade reached for Peter’s wrists. Peter easily twisted his arms out of the grasp.

 

“Wade,” he complained. Tony could see a muscle in Wade’s jaw tighten. There was tension set in his shoulders, but he didn’t look or smell angry. 

 

They tried again. And again. After the fourth attempt Peter threw up his hands in annoyance.

 

“I’m not made of glass, Wade! You can grab me, it’s fine. I need to learn this. How am I supposed to learn it if you don’t come at me?”

 

Wade didn’t respond. He swallowed. Tony could see a vein twitching in Wade’s neck. He wasn’t meeting Peter’s eyes, Tony realized.

 

“Come on, Wade, grab me,” Peter prompted, practically whining. “Come on!”

 

“No.”

 

“ _ Wade!” _

 

“No!” Wade snapped. Tony nearly jumped in his seat at the tone; he’d never heard Wade raise his voice like that, especially not against Peter, not even when they’d been arguing outside the grain silo. Wade’s hands dropped to his sides. His shoulders were shaking. When he spoke again his voice was quiet and shaky. “No. I can’t- Pete. I can’t. Please don’t make me.”

 

“Wade…” Peter’s voice was soft, confused. He took a cautious step toward Wade. The Alpha didn’t exactly flinch, but Tony could hear the sharp breath he drew. Wade covered his eyes with one hand, head bowed. 

 

“I can’t, Peter.” He said again, still quiet. “I can’t. Please don’t make me.”

 

Peter reached out. When Wade didn’t pull away, Peter settled his hands on Wade’s arms, his thumbs rubbing soothing patterns onto his biceps. “No one’s gonna make you do anything.”

 

Not for the first time, Tony felt like he was intruding on a private moment. He wished there were a way to slip out of the room without drawing attention to himself; it seemed like both of them had forgotten there were other people in the room at all.   

 

The feeling only grew when it became clear that Peter’s soft reassurances were not enough. 

 

“You’re ok.”

 

“I’m not. I’m not- I tried to tell you, I’m not ok. I can’t-“ Tony was not expecting the  _ whimper  _ that Wade let out. 

 

Both sank to their knees, Peter continuing to try to soothe him and Wade continuing to shake. Tony’s mind shot back to the argument they’d had outside of the Weapon X compound. Wade had told him that he wasn’t the same anymore. He’d called himself broken. At the time, Tony thought Wade only meant his scarred appearance. Now he suspected it was something that ran deeper.

 

Tony glanced to Natasha. She too had been holding very still, as if to avoid notice, but now she stepped forward and dropped to the floor so that she was on eye level with them.

 

“Alpha.” Tony startled again at her tone. He’d been expecting her to come in soft and soothing like Peter, but it was nearly a bark, commanding attention. Wade’s head shot up in response to meet her gaze. His pupils had shrunk to near pinpricks in his panic.

 

“Come back to Now.” She commanded, not cruelly, but firmly. Wade began to shake his head.

 

“I can’t- I’ll go feral- the Now-“

 

“Come back to Now.” Natasha repeated calmly. “They are gone. You are Here.”

 

Wade shut his eyes against her words, but his shaking stopped. Tony wasn’t sure if this absolute rigidity was much better.

 

“Trust your Alpha.” Natasha told him. Wade whined in protest, and Tony couldn’t help but agree. He was wary of his  _ own _ Alpha nature when it emerged: it felt volatile and a little violent. He could only assume Wade’s was even more intense, being a full Alpha.  “Trust it. Tell me what you smell.”

 

For a moment, Tony thought Wade would refuse. He looked like he wanted to, but Peter’s grip on him was still firm. He took a deep shaky breath without opening his eyes.

 

“Omega.” He said finally, quietly as though speaking from the bottom of a deep hole. 

 

“Which Omega?”

 

“Mine.” It was nearly a growl but it softened almost instantly. “Peter.”

 

“What else?” Natasha prompted. Wade took another deep breath.

 

“Beta— Tony… you… dirt. Rock. Water. Sweat. Ripe… pup?” Wade listed slowly. He swallowed hard. When he opened his eyes again, his pupils were not quite so contracted, although he still seemed unnerved.

 

“Are you Here and Now, Alpha?” Natasha addressed him again with that edge of command to her voice. This time when Wade nodded, it was slow but deliberate. Natasha’s voice was normal when she turned to Peter. “That’s enough for today. Go care for your Alpha. I’ll talk to Clint about practicing tomorrow.”

 

Peter nodded, but hesitated like he had something to say. Natasha raised an eyebrow to prompt him. 

 

“How did you know how to do that?” He asked quietly. One corner of Natasha’s mouth twitched in a sad sort of smirk. Slowly, she lifted the hem of her shirt a few inches and pushed the waistband of her pants down just a bit. The skin she revealed was marked by a long rope-like scar across her abdomen. 

 

“X?” Peter guessed. She shook her head, letting her clothes fall back into place.

 

“A different one. But with similar… methods.”

 

Tony could tell Peter wanted to ask more questions, but he refrained. Instead he and Wade helped each other to their feet and slowly retreated to another room to decompress. When it was just she and Tony, Natasha stood, shaking her head.

 

“It’s cruel.” She said. “The way they control you. They keep you locked so deep in your Alpha side that if you ever get out you never want to use those instincts again. But you can’t live like that, blocked off from such a key part of yourself. It’s hard to relearn how to be an Alpha on your own terms.”

 

Tony didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t totally comfortable with the Alpha facets of himself, and he hadn’t even been through anything like Natasha and Wade had. Besides that, as a Beta, he wasn’t necessarily tied to an Alpha identity indefinitely. He couldn’t - didn’t  _ want to-  _ imagine what it would be like to be made so deeply afraid of a part of himself.

 

\---

 

From that day forth, Clint substituted for Wade whenever Natasha decided they needed to switch up opponents. Peter never asked Wade to spar with him and Wade never offered, but at least it didn’t seem to cause any tension between the pair. Whatever had happened after Wade’s meltdown, they seemed to have sorted it out between themselves. 

 

The routine continued for almost two months before Peter finally declared that he was just too uncomfortable to be throwing himself around like this, even for the sake of learning something so important. 

 

Privately, Tony was a little glad that they’d stopped. He hadn’t really realized it would take this long for someone to  _ look _ pregnant the way his mental image supplied. Of course, they’d been able to see the bump for months now, but the difference between five and seven months felt huge.

 

Part of the difference might have been due to Peter’s appetite finally returning in full force. Tony was suddenly glad that Peter had been so food-averse while they were on the road together; he never would have been able to keep up with the amount of food Peter seemed to need.

 

Along with food, Peter’s other appetites also returned with a vengeance, sending Tony in search of a separate bedroom for himself lest he be scarred for life. It got so bad that Natasha eventually announced that if they were going to stay, they needed to start constructing a  _ separate  _ dwelling, to save everyone from learning far too much about each other’s sex lives. 

 

Peter was mortified, but Wade found the entire thing hilarious and quickly began brainstorming ideas with Tony for an extension that could be connected to Clint and Natasha’s house by a tunnel underground but still give everyone the privacy they needed.

 

Truthfully, it was good for them to have a project to work on, particularly Tony. The feeling of uselessness began to fade as Tony spent more time drafting floor plans and less time moping. And watching him and nudging him to teach him about everything he was doing did a good job of keeping Peter distracted from the litany of growing complaints.

 

“No one ever told me it was going to be so uncomfortable,” he grumbled. 

 

“It’s not abnormal,” Strange had reassured Tony in private. The doctor came once every ten or so days for the first few weeks, but had scaled back his visits once he was sure they had stabilized. “I can’t make any promises, but this is the best case scenario. The baby is very active.”

 

And  _ that _ it was. About the same time Peter quit the self defense training, he had begun to complain that the kid wouldn’t sit still, keeping him up at night.

 

“Like a little tumbleweed,” he’d said.

 

They’d discovered that they could even get a reaction out of the baby. If they prodded Peter’s stomach, more often than not, they could feel the pup push back in response. Tony found it fascinating but too strange to really do for long. It was just  _ weird  _ to be able to feel the kid moving around before it was even born. Wade, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to get enough. It didn’t matter how many times he tried it, he was just as delighted as he’d been the first time. 

 

Peter swore the kid could hear him too. Or, at least that it could hear and recognize Wade. Tony didn’t know enough about any of this to confirm or deny it, but it was funny to watch Wade lay on his stomach with his mouth pressed to Peter’s belly, sometimes babbling nonsense, sometimes singing.

 

“Nothing dirty, Wade,” Peter had complained.

 

“I don’t think he knows what any of it means, babe,” Wade laughed and continued his rendition of Rihanna’s S&M.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two brief-ish announcements to hopefully make up for such a short chapter!
> 
> 1) I don’t believe in leaving you guys hanging with truly suspenseful chapter endings, SO the last four chapters are actually going to be posted in two chunks of two chapters each. So double updates next Sunday and next Thursday. Which means we are practically reaching the end!! Can you believe it??
> 
> 2) This fic is actually the first installment in a set of three. A prequel and a sequel both have significant work done already. Which brings me to some questions:  
> \- Is there interest in seeing those when they are completed?  
> \- If so, which would you rather read first? The sequel is going to be a similar genre to this, sort of adventure-y but with heaping spoonfuls of spider!Dad thrown on top, and hopefully answering some of the loose ends not wrapped up in this fic. The prequel is going to be a little more low-key, a healthy mix of fluff and whump, about Peter and Wade’s lives as teenagers at May’s house and their initial love story.  
> \- if I were to post all three, how would you prefer to see them labeled in a series? This would be the middle fic in the timeline of the story (making it number 2), but its the first one posted (making it number 1). Thoughts?


	13. 12. Alarm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade discovers that Weapon X has not forgotten about them and Peter gets protective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: stalking, brief nsfw mention

It was unusual for the scavengers to return after they’d finished their mid-day siesta. They didn’t usually come back until it was getting dark and they’d finished for the day.

 

The sun had slipped low enough that Peter and Tony had ventured back upstairs to catch the last bit of daylight. They sat with Bruce at the kitchen table, discussing the pros and cons of different building materials for the new house and whether they could make some sort of clay from all the excess dirt of digging out new tunnels.

 

It felt oddly close to normality; almost like they really might be the family Peter had asked Tony to be part of, worrying about things as simple as ‘how many rooms should the new house have’ and ‘what would they use to clothe the new baby?’ It was… nice. Fear of starvation and dehydration felt far away for once. Tony wasn’t sure he remembered the last time ‘survival’ wasn’t his top priority. 

 

Almost as soon as Tony had thought it, he wished he hadn’t. It was like a jinx. The instant Tony decided to relax, the front door flew open with a bang. 

 

All three jumped to their feet as Clint burst into the room. 

 

“What the hell, man?” Tony groused. Clint ignored him. He didn’t even glance at any of them as he hurried around the room, pulling curtains shut and drawing blinds. It only served to set Tony more on edge. He liked Clint. He was quirky, sure, but generally friendly and good-humored. He’d only seen him serious a handful of times.

 

“Clint?” Bruce ventured, when the man didn’t respond to Tony in the least. Tony had never entirely figured out the dynamic between their three hosts, but Bruce seemed to command more attention than Tony had. Clint gave an almost apologetic grimace, pulling the final curtain closed before he gave them his full attention. 

 

He was fidgeting, Tony realized. That wasn’t unusual for Clint, but there was something  _ twitchy _ about it now. The man was wound up tight as a spring, even if he did a better job of controlling his pheromones than most of them. 

 

“Sorry ‘bout this,” He said to Bruce with another apologetic glance. Tony could see Bruce tense momentarily, smell the spike of fear in his scent, before it was forced away. 

 

“Code green?” He asked quietly. Clint nodded. Bruce took a deep breath, rubbed the back of his neck, and nodded. Tony glanced between the two, trying to understand the exchange. “Just the perimeter, or…?”

 

“Just the house. Wade and Nat can take care of the rest.” Clint assured him quickly. 

 

“What about you?” Bruce was rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, a look of determination settling on his face.

 

“I’m taking these guys downstairs. Use the knock when you come down or I’ll shoot.”

 

“You’re doing what?” Peter interrupted, finally tiring of being left out of what sounded like an important conversation. 

 

“We need to get downstairs,” Clint finally turned his attention to Peter and Tony, nodding his head towards the stairs.

 

“Why, what’s going on?” Peter’s shoulders tensed. He made no move toward the stairs. Tony matched his stance, hoping that the united front could pressure Clint into an explanation. Clint hesitated visibly, he seemed to realize he would have better luck convincing Peter to move if he answered the question.

 

“Wade found somebody.” Clint said finally. “He thinks they’re from Weapon X. We don’t know if it’s just one or if there’s more of them.”

 

Tony felt his stomach drop. It had been so long since they’d stolen the car, he’d begun to think maybe they’d gotten away with it - gotten away _from_ _them_. But Weapon X had still found them. It had been stupid, but he’d allowed himself to feel _safe_ here. It wasn’t fair.

 

“ _ Please _ go downstairs.” Clint said when neither of them responded. Despite the ‘please’ he sounded even pushier than before. “Tony, you can’t fight on that leg, and Peter…”

 

Peter’s face darkened, but he nodded. 

 

\--

 

_ “ _ Wade should be down here,” Peter said, almost as soon as Clint had shut and locked the door behind them. Peter reached out to grab Clint’s sleeve, making it impossible for Clint to pretend he hadn’t heard. “If it  _ is  _ Weapon X then they’re looking for  _ him!  _ He needs to be protected too.”

 

“He wants to be out there, Pete,” Tony started to say, but Peter scowled at him. 

 

“How do you know what he wants?” Peter shot back. “Clint, it’s dangerous, get him back here. Please.”

 

Clint shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, obviously reluctant to butt heads with Peter.

 

“Look, I know you want your mate-“ Tony tried again, but it only set Peter’s jaws snapping.

 

“It’s not that, Tony! I’m not some scared little Omega who can’t hold it together without his Alpha. Wade is in  _ danger _ . Those people hurt him! They’re going to try to hurt him again. You won’t let me up there, so bring him back here where I can protect him!”

 

“He’s trying to protect you too,”

 

“I  _ know _ , but they are targeting  _ him!  _ Why are you making it so easy for them to get him, letting him out in the open like that!” There was a growl to Peter’s voice now, an accusation. The fear and anger were so tangled together in Peter’s scent that Tony couldn’t pick one apart from the other.

 

“He’s a good fighter, Peter, you know that,” Tony tried to reason with him. It was a foolish effort. He ought to know better than to butt heads with a territorial pregnant Omega. At least he’d drawn Peter’s attention away from Clint for now. The other Beta obviously didn’t even know where to begin with Peter.

 

“He’s still healing!” Peter was getting louder, though he didn’t seem to realize it. “He’s not- They know how to exploit that!”

 

“Peter-”

 

 “Do you  _ want _ them to get him? Is that it?” 

 

Tony knew Peter wouldn’t normally sling such an accusation at him, that it was fear and helplessness that made him lash out, but the words stung all the same. Whatever Tony thought about Wade, he wouldn’t wish the sort of torture he’d been through on anyone. 

 

“You never liked him,” Peter wasn’t done spitting venom, practically pacing. “You-”

 

“Peter, it’s not just him!” Tony finally snapped. Peter fell silent, his rage temporarily broken by his confusion. Tony took a deep breath. “They don’t…  _ just _ want Wade.”

 

He and Wade had never spoken about what Francis had told them when they’d gone to steal the car. Tony wasn’t sure if it was because the implications were too horrific or just because they’d been so busy trying to survive in the immediate aftermath, but it had never come up again. Even now, he felt hesitant to repeat exactly what Francis and said. But he’d finally gotten Peter’s attention, so he plunged onward. 

 

“They wanted Wade back… and me too. They stole my blasters, remember? I guess they think I’ll make more for them if they catch me.” The growl in Peter’s throat started to build at the admission, and Tony was almost touched that Peter might be outraged on his behalf. “And…”

 

“And?” Peter prompted.

 

“And they wanted the pup.” Tony said finally, cringing as though being the one to say it made it his fault somehow. Peter went very still. He didn’t move a muscle but Tony could smell the shift in his pheromones. It  _ wasn’t _ fear.

 

“Why?” The growl was unmistakable now.

 

“I don’t know. They said-“ Tony hesitated. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen Peter truly furious before, and realized suddenly that he had no idea what Peter was capable of. “I think they wanted to recreate whatever they did to Wade.”

 

The growl was wordless for a moment, drowning out the end of Tony’s sentence. He placed a hand protectively over his stomach before snapping toward Clint.

 

“Let me out,” he demanded. Clint looked startled, glancing at Tony over the top of Peter’s head before stubbornly planting his feet.

 

“No.”

 

“Let. Me. Out.” Peter was half crouched, eyes narrowed. He looked ready to pounce.

 

“No.”

 

“Get out of my way!” He snarled. Tony grabbed Peter’s arm, half convinced he really was about to launch himself at Clint.

 

“Peter, stop it!” He snapped, giving him a firm shake. Peter snapped his teeth at him, baring small fangs.

 

“They threatened my mate! They threatened my cub!  _ They _ started this! Let me go!” 

 

“Listen to yourself,” Tony tightened his grip, unconvinced that Peter wouldn’t try to wrench himself free the instant Tony let up. “If you go up there and they catch you, they’ll have you  _ and _ the kid! And you know me and Wade would go after you if they did. They’d have all of us. You’d just be giving them what they want!”

 

“Wade is up there!”

 

“Bruce and Natasha are with him.” Tony said firmly. He didn’t promise Wade would be ok. He couldn’t make that promise. “Don’t make yourself a target. Don’t give them what they want.”

 

Peter tore his arm out of Tony’s grasp with a disgusted shout, before he turned sharply and retreated to the back of the room, as far away from Tony and Clint as he could get. Tony wavered, guilt and frustration stirring in his chest, not eased at all by Clint’s uncomfortable attempts to pretend he wasn’t in the room.

 

“Peter…” Tony started softly, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder, but Peter growled again, baring his teeth.

 

“Don’t touch me,” he hissed. Tony withdrew quickly. 

 

\--

 

It seemed like an age before the rest of their group returned. The coded knock on the door practically sounded like a chorus of angels by the time it came. He and Clint were both jumpy from being trapped with Peter’s blatantly aggressive pheromones for so long and they practically jumped over each other in their race to open the door.

 

Wade came through the door first, he and Peter latching on to each other like a pair of magnets. Peter held onto him fiercely, glaring over Wade’s shoulder at anyone who seemed like they might interrupt. None of them were so foolish as to even entertain the thought. Clint looked over his partners in a calmer manner, though Tony could still sense the relief to find them both unharmed.

 

“What happened?” Tony asked, trying not to pay attention to the fact that he was the only one not currently caught up in some sort of embrace. 

 

“Wade took care of it.” Natasha said simply.

 

“It was really weird,” Bruce said, shaking his head. He smelled strange again. It was that fresh-out-of-a-heat smell Tony had recognized when they first arrived, but he still couldn’t explain it or why Clint and Natasha both had such unwavering confidence that the normally mild-mannered Omega could defend himself  _ and  _ the house with ease. 

 

“Was it Weapon X?” Tony asked.

 

“Yeah, but it was just the one guy. We didn’t even find a buggy or anything to explain how he got there.” Bruce explained.

 

“He was there for at least a few days,” Natasha added, frowning. “Just… watching. Even when people were out alone, or when the hunters were all away from the house - he still didn’t try to attack anyone.”

 

“He definitely had the chance,” Bruce agreed, grimly. Tony wondered about all the times he and Peter had sat in plain view of the windows, how many times Bruce was alone in the kitchen, how frequently the other hunters worked alone and passed unknowingly close to the agent’s hiding spot. How many opportunities had he had to take out any one of them, but hadn’t?

 

“Don’t like it,” Wade finally grumbled, barely lifting his head from where he’d pushed it against Peter’s neck. 

 

“We’ll have to be more careful,” Natasha said with a sigh. “And come up with a plan for getting Strange in and out safely.”

 

Tony could practically feel the temperature of the room drop. No one liked the idea of being stranded without the doctor’s help in the coming months, but no one dared voice it. 

 

“We’ll come up with something.”

 

—

 

Peter’s mood never fully recovered from the incident. Or perhaps the physical discomfort of the third trimester was really getting to him. Or even just the annoying discovery that “nine months” really meant  _ ten _ months and that if they were lucky they wouldn’t see the baby until the  _ end  _ of the ninth month, not the beginning. 

 

He was not melancholy, exactly, and he kept a better reign on his temper after he’d lashed out at Tony and Clint, but he was… serious. He never tried to stop Wade or the other scavengers from leaving and never asked when they’d be back, but he always latched onto Wade the instant he got back and refused to let him go until he’d made certain he was whole and hale. It didn’t matter how many times they reminded him of Wade’s new healing abilities, his routine remained the same.

 

It probably didn’t help that in the next six weeks, they caught two more spies. 

 

Wade remained the only person who could easily get a smile out of Peter with his mindless babble and his off-key renditions of old pop songs.

 

“For the baby! You know, playing classical music makes them smarter.”

 

 “I don’t think they meant Britney Spears, Wade.”

 

Peter even smirked and swatted at Wade when the Alpha tried to sing the praises of his newly budding breasts.

 

“Don’t get used to them, you know they’ll just shrink a bunch once the baby’s weaned.”

 

“I know, I know, but that doesn’t stop them from being perfect! Come on, Petey, let’s get out of here, I don’t wanna get nasty in front of your dad and they’re just so plump and perfect, I wanna squeeeeze!”

 

—

 

“You ok?” 

 

All six of them were gathered together for dinner when Tony asked. For the first time in months, Peter was picking at his food instead of eating it. Peter scowled at Tony when his question drew the attention of the table.

 

“Yeah… I mean— my stomach hurts.” 

 

“Do you feel sick?” Tony prodded. 

 

“No, it just… it doesn’t  _ hurt. _ ” Peter sounded nearly as uncomfortable as he looked. Nervous. Tony half wished he’d waited for a more private moment to ask, but the unspoken thought was a little too urgent for that. 

 

Wade reached for Peter’s hand under the table.

 

“Like what?”

 

“Like…” Peter scrunched up his face and put Wade’s hand over his stomach. “Like  _ that.” _

 

_ “ _ Tight?” Wade asked, brow furrowing. Peter nodded. 

 

“Like heat cramps. But it’s not— not for another six weeks, right?” Tony could hear the panic threatening to rise in Peter’s voice. Wade tensed beside him.

 

It had been a long time since Strange’s initial warning, the risk of the baby coming too soon, but none of them had really forgotten. They turned to Bruce, who fidgeted at suddenly being the center of attention.

 

“I’m not a real doctor, you know,” he muttered. His words only seemed to spike the underlying anxiety in the room - the reminder that Strange was still  _ hours  _ away at best. Bruce chewed at his bottom lip, thinking. “But, it could be? I suppose?”

 

It wasn’t a real answer and Tony bit back his annoyance at not having more clarity. Bruce shrugged unhappily. “Better safe than sorry?”

 

“I’ll go now,” Wade stood, and Clint joined him.

 

“Me too.”

 

“Come back  _ soon.” _ Peter said firmly, squeezing Wade’s hand like a warning. 

 

“We will,” Wade promised.


	14. 13. Pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter goes into labor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: descriptions of labor (not too graphic)

 

“It’s  _ normal _ ,” Strange told him. Peter groaned and dropped his face into his hands. Even from here, Tony could see that the tips of his ears were scarlet. 

  
  


“So, this is really a good thing?” Tony asked, more for Peter’s benefit than his own.

  
  


“Definitely,” Strange nodded. “The closer to forty weeks the baby can wait, the better.”

  
  


“I wanna die.” Peter moaned into his hands.

  
  


“No, you don’t,” Tony smirked.

  
  


“... No, I don’t.” Peter agreed unhappily. “‘M still sorry though.”

  
  


“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Tony assured him, rubbing his shoulder and shooting Strange a glance to back him up. 

  
  


“Right.” Strange chimed in half-heartedly. “If it  _ had  _ been true labor, you would’ve done the right thing.”

  
  


“But it  _ wasn’t _ .” Peter grumbled. “Wade ran all the way there and you came all the way out here for nothing.”

  
  


It was just after lunch the day after Peter had complained of the uncomfortable ‘tightness.’  Clint and Wade were both asleep in their respective rooms. They  _ had  _ run almost the entire way to Strange’s last known location and had pushed the doctor at an unforgiving pace to make it back as quickly as possible.

  
  


Rather than the excitement and mayhem they expected to find on their return, however, they had been greeted by one indescribably mortified Peter - obviously not in labor.

  
  


“I was planning to visit in the next few days anyway,” Strange said finally. Tony almost cringed; if  _ he  _ thought  Strange sounded unconvincing then Peter undoubtedly would too. “You were due for a check up.”

  
  


“But this  _ is _ normal, right?” Tony asked again, unable to stop himself. Strange rolled his eyes but reassured him again that,  _ yes _ , it was normal,  _ no,  _ it wasn’t sign that anything was going to go wrong. 

  
  


He performed his usual check up with next to no resistance from Peter. When it became clear that Peter was not about to get over his embarrassment any time soon, the doctor plunged ahead into an explanation of how to tell the false contractions apart from real ones.

  
  


“It’s your first kid,” Strange told him, straightening up. “It’ll probably take a while when you  _ do  _ go into labor. You’ll have time to decide whether it’s real or not, you don’t need to panic.”

  
  


Tony knew he meant it to be comforting but, from the way Peter hung his head, it seemed like he could only hear it as a reprimand.

  
  


—

  
  


It was not the last time Peter would wrinkle his nose in discomfort and rub at his back distractedly. 

 

Tony understood that he was embarrassed, but considering all of them - particularly Wade - were just trying to help? His defensiveness was somewhat trying. Tony learned quickly not to ask when he noticed Peter picking at his food again or shuffling restlessly to find a more comfortable position. Even the occasional complaint of a back or stomach ache was better met with sympathy than concern. 

 

Wade caught his fourth scout from Weapon X a month and a half after the false alarm. 

 

“I just don’t get it,” he sighed, resting his head on what little he could reach of Peter’s lap. “They never do anything. They just watch. Even after all this time.”

 

Peter didn’t say anything but Tony could smell the anger building quietly in him. He half wished Wade didn’t tell them when he caught the spies; it always made Peter aggressively protective for at least the entire day afterward. 

 

Tony didn’t have any ideas for why the scouts kept coming either. If it had just been in the first weeks (even the first few months), their information gathering could have been for some attack they intended to launch. But Tony didn’t think they had anything new to learn from watching them for  _ five  _ consecutive months. There must be for a reason though, since Weapon X always seemed to send a replacement after Wade picked off another spy.

 

It was creepy and definitely not a  _ good  _ thing, but since they didn’t seem to be in immediate danger and there was nothing they could do about it, Tony tried not to dwell on their silent observers.

 

Peter, however, did seem to dwell on it. He picked at his dinner again, though they had learned not to comment, and turned in even earlier than usual, dragging Wade with him.

 

When Tony passed their room on his own way to bed some hours later, he could hear them whispering together quietly. Through the half-open door, he could see Wade rubbing Peter’s back with one hand while they lay side by side.

 

—

Peter had been restless all morning. He couldn’t seem to sit still, finding reasons to go up and down the stairs more than he needed to.

Tony didn’t think about it too hard. Peter was often anxious the day after Wade caught a spy, and he’d been cooped up inside for the better part of five months. Especially after everything that had happened, everyone was too concerned about heat and enemy snipers to entertain going out for long. Tony felt some of that restlessness himself. Even working to expand the underground systems, it was hard not to feel stir-crazy at times.

So Tony let Peter come and go as he pleased, sometimes coming to talk about the latest developments on the water storage and filtration systems Tony was working on, sometimes disappearing upstairs to poke around the kitchen. He could even hear him just walking up and down the stairs some of the time, seemingly without any real destination.

Finally, just when Tony was beginning to think about lunch, Peter came to him.

“Tony?” He sounded nervous, almost like he expected Tony to yell at him.

“Yeah?” Tony turned to see him standing in the door, shifting from foot to foot.

“Can you go get Wade for me?”

Tony paused. Peter hadn’t asked for his mate before. He’d always been impatient but resigned to the fact that Wade and the other scavengers would be back when they came back and that was it.

“Is everything ok?” Tony asked slowly. Peter bit his lip, nodding in the least convincing way Tony had ever seen.

“I just— I  _ need  _ him.” Peter still sounded anxious and that more than anything else made Tony nervous.

“Ok,” Tony said quickly before Peter had the chance to work himself up. “I’ll go right now. Just hang tight.”

Peter nodded and returned to pacing the underground rooms while Tony went upstairs. He didn’t love the idea of leaving Peter alone when he was obviously distressed about  _ something _ , but he wasn’t about to refuse the request.

Still, Tony breathed a sigh of relief when he ran into Bruce in the kitchen. After the situation was explained, Bruce was quick to volunteer to find Wade instead so that Tony could stay with Peter.

Peter, however, looked less than thrilled to see him when Tony reappeared downstairs moments later.

“Where’s Wade?” He frowned, a little suspicious.

“Bruce said he would get him.”

Peter nodded, shoulders relaxing a little, but did not apologize for snapping. Tony settled in to wait, watching Peter pace then pause to sigh and rub at his lower back.

“Is it the kid?” He asked finally. The defensiveness flared back into Peter’s posture.

“Maybe. I’m not sure.” He hedged. His cheeks had flushed at the mention of the possibility. Tony let Peter be for the moment. He didn’t need Tony adding to his obvious anxiety, and Tony was close enough to provide support if he ended up needing it. For now, however, all Peter seemed to want was to keep pacing and biting at his nails.

Tony eventually gave in to his own body’s demands and scrounged up some lunch for himself while they waited. He got Peter to eat a little, but for the first time in months, he declined more. He drank a little of the water Tony offered him, both still hyper aware of the doctor’s warning, but began to snap when Tony pushed the issue further.

Both of them could smell Wade before they saw him. The Alpha was halfway to a full panic when he came barreling down the stairs.

“Petey? Baby boy?” He immediately wrapped his arms around Peter, running his hands over him as though searching for injuries. “You ok?”

This time when Peter nodded, he seemed much more sure of himself. Wade continued to stroke Peter’s arms, his hair, his back.

“Bruce said you  _ needed _ me.” Wade said it like a question and again Peter nodded.

“I do.” He looked up at Wade and Tony was surprised to see the nervousness replaced with a steadfast determination. Wade seemed to recognize it too.

“Whoa- baby time? Oh my god. Oh my god.” It was as though Peter had transferred all his nervous energy into his partner. Tony pitied Wade, but his antics were making Peter start to crack the smallest of smiles, so he didn’t bother to offer any reassurance. “Are you ok? What should I do? Oh man. Ok. Ok. Food? Wait can you even eat during labor? Blankets? No, doctor! Definitely doctor! Should I go get him?”

“No.” Peter was firmly. He grabbed Wade’s arm tightly to keep him close. “I need you here.”

“But- But-  _ Doctor!”  _ Wade whined, almost incoherent.

“I’ll ask one of the others to go,” Tony said quickly. Wade looked startled, as though he’d forgotten that anyone else existed who might be able to do the task for him. Peter was already nodding, motioning for Tony to do so.

 

—

Tony had never attended a birth before. He had not expected it to be so… boring.

For hours there was little drama and little to watch. There were moments when it was obvious that Peter was uncomfortable, but they spent most of the day almost as they usually would: Wade joked and kept them entertained, Peter eventually insisted that Tony continue his tinkering so that he could watch him work. Occasionally Tony or Wade would leave for more food or water, switching off so Peter was never alone. Wade rubbed Peter’s back and hips, but it was, overall, extremely uneventful.

Some of the tension remained. It had been so long, literally all day, and nothing seemed to have happened. What if it was another false alarm? Or, even more terrifying, what if it wasn’t? The longer the day wore on, however, the more apparent it seemed to be that this was, in fact, genuine.

As the afternoon continued, it became harder for Peter to concentrate on anything. They hadn’t been doing much, but Tony noticed him trailing off more frequently, sucking on his teeth, rocking in his seat, before sighing and settling again.

“It hurt?” Wade asked eventually, rubbing a hand over Peter’s lower back. He shrugged unhappily in response.

“Not too bad.” Tony didn’t know what it meant that Peter was admitting to any pain. It was strange to realize all over again that he’d known Peter for less than a year. He didn’t know what Peter’s pain tolerance was like.

“Maybe some hot water?” Tony suggested. They didn’t have any showers or bathtubs, or Tony might have suggested that, but he remembered the way Bruce had used the rags and cold water to soothe them when they’d first arrived. Surely the reverse would work as well to make a sort of hot compress.

Peter considered for a moment before relenting.

When Tony related the request, Bruce and Clint were eager to do something to help. Tony understood. He felt a similar sense of uselessness in the face of all this. He’d jumped at the opportunity to make himself useful too.

Peter was rocking more earnestly when Tony returned. He was biting his lip hard, obviously trying to keep himself quiet.

“It’s ok,” Wade tried to reassure him. “No one’s going to get mad, you can make noise if you want.”

Peter shook his head, letting out a long breath as the pressure passed.

“Peter,” Tony frowned, as a thought occurred to him. “Are you  _ embarrassed?” _

Peter’s head shot up, glaring at Tony, but he could see the flush rising in his cheeks.

“ _ Why?” _ Tony asked, bewildered. Peter looked away, leaning against Wade almost as though he were hoping he could hide behind him.

“What if it’s fake?” He whispered finally.

“Ok, what if it is?” Tony prompted. Peter shot him a confused glance. “What do you think is gonna happen if it is another false alarm?”

“I don’t know… people are being nice to me. Maybe for no reason.” Peter struggled to find the words to explain the fear, however irrational.

“Oh my god,” Tony muttered to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, are you or are you not pregnant?”

“Um,  _ yeah _ ?” Peter looked at him like he was crazy for asking.

“Right. And are you in pain?” Tony pressed.

“I mean- maybe but what if it’s not… ” Peter hesitated, still self conscious.

“ _ Are _ you?”

“Yes, ok?” Peter finally snapped.

“So why does it matter if it’s labor or not? You’re pain is real and people want to help. Do what you need to do. If you need to make noise, then make noise.”

They lapsed into silence for some minutes until the discomfort on Peter’s face grew again and he clenched his teeth, still not giving more than a quiet hiss between his teeth.

“Hey, guys, I’ve get the- oh shit!”

Clint jumped back as Peter took a half lunge step toward him, teeth suddenly bared. Hot water splashed over the side of the bowl Clint carried, though he managed not to drop it.

“ _ Leave. _ ” Peter snarled, all traces of self consciousness vanished as he settled into a defensive stance, one hand over his stomach.

“Peter!” Tony scolded, but it was obvious the young Omega wasn’t ready to back down.

“Leave!”

“Wha- But I have-“ Clint seemed almost dazed from the sudden switch in mood.

“Sorry, just, uh, leave the bowl on the ground. I think maybe just go.” Wade said apologetically. The Beta surrendered, moving slowly as he left the bowl on the floor and retreated back up the stairs.

With Clint gone, Peter sagged and sat back down.

“Oh my god, I don’t- I didn’t-“ Peter’s voice was tight with humiliation and regret. “It just-  _ happened. _ ”

Tony and Wade exchanged a look. Neither of them knew much about childbirth, but it seemed perfectly logical to  _ them  _ that a laboring Omega might be unusually territorial.

“Yeah, “not real” my ass,” Tony muttered before going to retrieve the hot water.

 

—

A few hours after dinner and Peter had finally stopped voicing the possibility that this  _ might  _ be a false alarm. For the first half of the night, Wade and Tony took turns napping and sitting up with Peter. For his part, Peter’s eyes grew more bloodshot with every hour as he continued to stay awake.

“Can’t you try to sleep?” Wade asked quietly, some hours in. Peter shook his head.

“I can’t.” His voice trembled. “It hurts too bad. Every time I try, it wakes me up again.”

Sleep stopped being an option for any of them soon afterward. Not long after midnight, something seemed to shift and it became harder and harder for Peter to keep quiet. The back of his hand was dotted with bite marks where he’d shoved it into his mouth to muffle himself.

“I’m sorry- I’m so sorry,” Peter gasped, wiping at his now streaming eyes.

They had escalated from little whines, to low groans, to now a sort of keening. It was not quite a scream, but it was beginning to near it. None of them could sleep through that. None of them wanted to.

Where earlier in the day, Peter had wanted to do nothing but pace, all he seemed to want now was to curl into a ball and never move again. He whined when Wade went out of reach and increasingly began to withdraw from Tony. It was hard not to take it personally, but Tony tried to back off, always staying out of arm's reach.

The length was beginning to wear on all of them, Peter most of all. He hadn’t really slept at all and as the contractions came closer together, he couldn’t seem to catch his breath.

Another yell died, giving way to Peter’s labored breathing.

“Where the  _ hell _ is Strange?” Tony growled to no one in particular. He’d taken up pacing when Peter had left off. No one answered him either. Peter had wanted to talk less and less as the night wore on and Wade seemed too hyper focused on his mate to even really notice Tony at all.

Tony felt sure that any minute would be the one when the baby made its appearance, but minutes (and then hours) continued to pass with little change except the intensity of Peter’s cries. It did nothing to convince Tony that Strange would make it in time. He tried to run through anything he knew about delivering babies, just in case, but was forced to acknowledge that he knew _jack shit_ and would be basically useless if the situation arose.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's today's double update! Look out for the final update next Thursday and then this thing is finally complete!
> 
>  
> 
> If you are interested, please remember to chime in about whether you'd prefer to read a prequel or sequel to this fic first!


	15. 14. Never Say Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The delivery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: somewhat graphic descriptions of childbirth, blood, discussion of character death
> 
> To skip over the most descriptive bit of delivery, stop reading at ‘Tony had been averting his eyes’ and pick up again at ‘for a moment none of them spoke’.

Morning seemed to take an eon to arrive, but arrive it did and with it came Natasha and Strange. At least, Tony assumed Natasha returned; he never actually laid eyes on her, not wanting to leave Peter’s side.

 

Strange looked almost as exhausted as Tony felt when he finally arrived. He was talking even as he threw off his traveling cloak.

 

“Do you know how far apart they are?” Strange asked, washing his hands with brisk efficiency.

 

Wade’s eyes widened in panic at not knowing the answer. The Alpha seemed all the more overwhelmed when Peter grabbed at his arm, unable to stifle a low growl at the appearance of another stranger.

 

“Maybe five minutes?” Tony offered his best guess. He wanted to reassure Wade that it wasn’t his job to keep track of it; his job was to be where Peter needed him to be, doing what Peter needed him to do.

 

“And how long would you say they are?”

 

“Like, a minute or so,” Tony answered again.

 

“Do you know when it started?”

 

“Yesterday,” Wade piped in, apparently glad to have even one answer to contribute, but Peter lifted his head, shaking it.

 

“The day before.” He said quietly, still leaning heavily on Wade. His chin wobbled dangerously. “After dinner. I’m sorry, I thought it was a false alarm again- I didn’t say anything, I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s ok, it’s ok…” Wade had started up his low purr again, petting Peter’s back.

 

“It probably wouldn’t have changed anything if you had,” Strange said quickly. “It’s your first kid. Things are bound to move slow.”

 

Peter gave a little groan of irritation, pushing back against Wade as though trying to get as far away from the doctor as possible without actually leaving.  _Things were already moving slow. The-better-part-of-two-days type slow,_  Tony wanted to snap. He held his tongue. They needed Peter to relax around the doctor and picking fights wasn’t going to help.

 

“Will you let me examine you now?”

 

“No!” Peter snapped his teeth at Strange. He leaned away, baring his little fangs and growling. It was a good show of aggression, but Tony could see his legs shaking.

 

“Petey, you gotta.” Wade’s voice was less a plea and more a demand, for all that the tone was still gentle.

 

“No…” Tony could see that Peter was already giving in, his voice wobbling, his face screwing up in pain as another wave of pressure crested. Wade pressed his face into Peter’s neck, nosing at his scent glands and purring softly.

 

“It’s ok,” he whispered against Peter’s neck. “It’s ok. I’m right here. Tony is watching him like a hawk ok? He’ll kill him if he hurts you. You’ve got to let him look at you though.”

 

Peter’s hazy eyes found Tony’s, calculating. Tony gave a little nod. He didn’t really plan on killing anyone, but if it made Peter feel safer to know he could, Tony would agree. Finally, the contraction passed. Peter’s face relaxed minutely and he nodded, blinking hard. At least Strange didn’t seem offended by the threat.

 

Wade helped him sink to his knees, keeping Peter’s arms wrapped tight around his neck so he could support most of his weight. With clean hands, Strange approached. He kept his touch quick and professional, but it did not stop Peter from shaking with revulsion. Tony wished suddenly he hadn’t agreed. He knew it had to be done but he would have liked nothing more than to pull Strange off Peter and toss him across the room.  _Can’t you see he’s scared already? Why are you making it worse?_

 

Strange pulled away quickly, immediately moving to wash his hands again, and the urge to maim him passed.

 

“You aren’t ready to deliver yet. Try to rest if you can. Drink a little. It will happen when it happens.”

 

\--

 

Not having a time frame made the morning feel as though it were passing infinitely slower. The longer it dragged on, the less Peter seemed to be able to filter himself.

 

“Ow… ow, fuck- fuck that hurts!” Peter groaned into Wade’s shoulder. Wade carded his fingers through Peter’s hair.

 

“I know, baby, I know,” he crooned, only for Peter to knock his head against Wade’s shoulder in annoyance.

 

“No, you don’t!”

 

“No, I don’t,” Wade agreed quickly, letting Peter bury his face in the crook of his neck again, muffling his next shout.

 

“Fuck!” He drew the word out, cutting himself off sharply at the end, panting. His shoulders were starting to shake.

 

“I’m tired, Wade,” he said, voice high and tight in his throat.

 

“Can’t be that much longer,” Wade tried to reassure him, glancing back to Strange. “Right?”

 

“Would you like me to check again?” Strange seemed skeptical. None of them were eager for the stranger in their midst to touch Peter again.

 

“No!” Peter wailed.

 

“Come on, Petey, don’t you want this to be over?”

 

It took less cajoling this time to get Peter to let Strange examine him, but the doctor still came away shaking his head. Not yet. Closer, but not yet. Nether was he ready the next time Strange checked. Peter had protested even less to the third examination.

 

Tony left briefly to bring them lunch, and when he returned, Peter and Wade were arguing.

 

“- said you’re not ready!” Wade was insisting.

 

“I have to! I can’t not!” Peter seemed caught between anger at being contradicted and panic at not being able to follow whatever instruction he’d been given.

 

“He said you can’t push yet!”

 

“Well, he’s wrong!” Whatever retort Wade might have made was swallowed up in the distraught yell that tore from Peter’s throat.

 

“Check again,” Peter demanded as soon as he could speak. Strange obliged for the fourth time and this time, he nodded.

 

“Just follow the urge. Don’t force it.”

 

Peter didn’t have the time to be smug before the pressure mounted again and stole his breath away.

 

After all the time they’d spent waiting, it felt like things might finally be moving forward. This was what Tony had imagined attending a birth would be like. Peter settled on his knees with Wade in front of him, hanging on to Wade’s neck while he tried to bear down. The noise was intense: Peter’s continued cries mixed with phrases Tony expected to hear from Wade and the doctor, “Push,” and “breathe,” and “you can do it,” and “you’re almost there.”

 

But they weren’t almost there, it seemed. Lunch had grown cold and been forgotten. Peter had scratched long lines into Wade’s chest and back, though they were already healing over. His knees were rubbed pink and raw from kneeling for so long.

 

“I can’t— I can’t—“ Peter gasped, shaking his head.

 

“You can, just breathe,” but now Wade was having trouble sounding confident. “Just breathe.”

 

“I can’t-“ Peter cut himself off with a scream that made Tony’s skin crawl. He could see Peter’s nails digging into the flesh of Wade’s arm. The sound seemed to go on an on, leaving Peter breathless when it finally stopped. He didn’t seem to realize that his eyes were watering.

 

“Please,” he begged, making Wade’s arms tighten around him. “Please, it hurts.”

 

Wade’s own lip trembled and Tony didn’t blame him, especially as the pressure and Peter’s shrieks began to build again.

 

“Make it stop! Please, make it stop. I can’t- pull it out! Please, please pull it out, it hurts-“

 

“You have to push it out,” Strange told him sternly. Peter wailed in response.

 

Tony had almost forgotten the doctor was even there, and anger flared up in him at the reminder.

 

“Can’t you do something?” Tony demanded. This couldn’t be normal, could it? There had to be something else they could do. “Can’t you- I don’t know! You were a surgeon once! Can’t you do that?”

 

Strange hesitated, finally turning away from Peter to face Tony.

 

“Are you ready to accept the consequences if I did?” He hissed quietly, surprising Tony with the venom in his voice. “I could do it. He’d almost certainly die though. This isn’t a clean environment. We don’t have the right anesthesia. Even if he didn’t bleed out, shock or infection would definitely get him.”

 

Tony gaped at him, horror swelling in his chest, but Strange wasn’t done.

 

“But the baby would have a better chance. The longer this drags on the more concerned I’d be about the kid’s chances. And it’s already been a long time.”

 

Tony’s mouth snapped shut. He was shaking with fury. These couldn’t be their only options: lose Peter to save the baby or keep going and risk both of them? It was cruel. All of this was cruel.

 

Peter had been quiet for a few minutes, longer than he had been in some time. He was still awake when Tony looked back, but ashen, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. Wade was glaring at him. He must have overheard, Tony realized. Wade shook his head, looking murderous and Tony nodded to show he understood. No, they weren’t going to make a move like that - not while there was a chance that it could be ok.

 

“Oh no…” Peter wasn’t quite screaming anymore. He’d stopped begging. His voice was broken as he slumped back against Wade and let the next wave of pressure seize him. “I can’t…”

 

Strange moved forward again and Pete did not protest or even really react when the doctor slid his fingers into his opening. For all his cool detached manner, Strange’s voice held a hint of relief when he spoke.

 

“I can feel it. It’s close.”

 

And yet it was not quite so relieving as it should have been. It would have been more reassuring if Peter had continued his desperate screaming, but he’d stopped. His eyes were red, hung with dark circles, standing out in his pale face. He looked exhausted, only enough energy left to sob and push when the urge hit.

 

Tony had been averting his eyes from Peter’s nudity, but he could not help himself when Strange began a litany of familiar, ‘I can see it,”s and “keep going”s. Once he had looked, however, Tony almost wished he hadn’t.

 

There was something there, slowly pushing the folds of skin apart, but Tony could not bring himself to feel the awe or reverence for new life that he’d expected.

 

It was bone pale and hairless with a deep seam running down the center. It didn’t look like a head. It didn’t even look human. It inched forward slowly, but for every little bit of hard won progress, it seemed to slide back half as much. Peter still wasn’t screaming. Somehow, the broken little whimpers were infinitely worse.

 

“Shit.” Strange swore under his breath.

 

“What?” Tony whispered angrily. That couldn’t be a baby and it was fucking killing him.

 

“It’s breech.”

 

“What?”

 

“The baby is facing the wrong way.” Every question Tony voiced only seemed to aggravate the doctor, so he bit his tongue. Tony didn’t know what the implications of that were, but from Strange’s expression, it wasn’t good. “You need to push. Hard, harder than you have been.”

 

Peter just shook his head. He still couldn’t seem to catch his breath, even enough to refuse.

 

Some of the disgust faded now that Tony could identify what he was looking at. It almost made him want to laugh if the sight wasn’t so horrific. It wasn’t a head; it was an ass. A tiny butt. His stomach churned again as Strange grew more insistent.

 

“Push! You have to push!” Wade lifted his head long enough to glare daggers at the doctor. Tony couldn’t help but agree: couldn’t he see that Peter was exhausted? That he had been pushing? That he was only frightening the kid by raising his voice?

 

“Help me turn him over,” Strange instructed. However unhappy Wade was with him, he wouldn’t disobey a doctor’s direct orders and he slowly started shifting Peter’s weight.

 

“No,” Peter moaned, voice cracking on another sob. “Hurts.”

 

Wade gave a low sort of mewling sound, nearly crying himself at the knowledge that he was causing his mate more pain, but he didn’t stop until Peter was propped up with his back against Wade’s chest. His feet rested flat on the ground, knees splayed apart. Tony could see why they’d shifted- Peter didn’t need to hold himself up at all this way. If he slumped back, he wouldn’t risk sitting on the slowly emerging infant.

 

Tony didn’t know what was more gut wrenching: the sight of Peter’s flesh pulled impossibly tight, stretched to a thin bloodless strip around the pale body of the child, or the way that each desolate whine seemed a little quieter than the last. Wade was doing most of the work to hold him up, Tony saw, and even he was shaking. The Alpha was crying, Tony realized.

 

It was nightmarish. The baby’s skin was white, eerily so, and wet. It looked folded in half, its legs pressed straight up against its stomach. It seemed impossible huge, protruding from Peter’s body. For a terrifying moment, Tony thought it was going to get stuck.

 

“Grab his leg,” Strange snapped and Tony obeyed without thinking, hoisting one of Peter’s legs and pressing it back against his chest. Peter gasped and choked, but his throat was too torn to scream again.

 

Tony didn’t see how the baby could possibly fit. It had already pushed the limits of what Tony thought was possible, surely Peter just couldn’t stretch any further.

 

He was unfortunately right and Peter gave a rough sob when he tore.

 

And then the feet were free, legs flopping down limply. Strange was on the child in an instant, wrapping the exposed portion of its body in a towel, and sliding his fingers up into Peter’s already abused opening. Whatever he found seemed to steady the doctor.

 

“Cord isn’t wrapped around its neck.” He breathed. It seemed like the first good piece of news Strange had told them since he arrived. It wasn’t enough to make up for the scene before him. It was grotesque, the baby’s arms, head, and shoulders still lodged inside Peter’s body, his thighs and the child’s body now streaked with blood, and both of them so pale, impossibly pale.

 

Strange slid his fingers again inside Peter’s opening, feeling along the baby’s body. Satisfied, he changed his grip on the infant to hold it more firmly.

 

“Keep going,” he urged, “You need to keep pushing.”

 

Peter whined wordlessly, face screwing up with the effort. He cried out when the doctor began to tug on the child at the same time, recoiling slightly, pressing back against Wade. Wade’s eyes had glossed over with shed and unshed tears. He growled at the doctor, and Tony wished he could do the same. It was too much. It just seemed like a tangle of blood and limbs and Peter’s breathless gasps of pain.

 

Strange had hooked his fingers around the baby’s arms, helping to pull them free one by one, but Tony could hardly stand to look. The stench of blood was almost overwhelming.

 

Peter gave a last yelp, and Tony heard rather than saw a gush of fluids and the doctor’s sigh of relief. Peter slumped against Wade, letting his mate do all the work of supporting his weight.

 

For a moment, none of them spoke. Tony found himself swallowing hard around a lump in his throat he hadn’t realized was there. Slowly he let go of Peter’s leg.

 

“Not crying?” It barely sounded like words, but Tony felt his heart drop at them. Peter’s eyes were wide, but he couldn’t seem to focus them or catch his breath. “Wade?”

 

Tony looked. This couldn’t have all been for nothing. The last days of misery, the months of trying and planning and protecting - it couldn’t culminate in this. So Tony looked.

 

They were practically sitting in a pool of fluids and blood, with the baby in the middle of it, lying on its back on the towel Strange had wrapped it in. Strange was moving with frightening efficiency, using first his fingers and then a small pipette-like instrument to suction the kid’s mouth and nose. It still didn’t look particularly baby-like to Tony. It’s skin was still frighteningly pale and it looked… squished. Wrinkled. Like it's skin wasn’t the right size for its body. And he didn’t care for the ways it’s little arms and legs wriggled.

 

And then it coughed, gasped, and wailed.

 

Almost immediately its skin began to flush pink and Tony could hear the mutual sob of relief of the thing’s parents.

 

“Give-“ Peter demanded. Strange obliged, not even severing the umbilical cord, just placing the now screaming infant onto his stomach. Peter’s hands shook as he gently stroked the baby’s back. The corners of his mouth twitched upward and he closed his eyes with a long sigh.

 

Wade made a shrill sound in the back of his throat, nudging at Peter’s shoulder. He did not stir. Wade’s head snapped up, eyes catching Strange as he made another desperate sort of cry. Tony’s stomach dropped. Wade and the baby were both loud: loud enough that they should have woken Peter.

 

Tony reached for Strange’s shoulder without thinking.

 

“Do something.” He demanded, shaking his shoulder. “Fix it!”

 

Stranger slapped his hand away and ignored Tony.

 

“Stop it,” the doctor warned Wade. “Let him rest. There’s still the afterbirth and I need to stitch him up and it will hurt less if he stays out.”

 

“Rest?” Tony echoed, panic surging in his chest. “He looks—“ _dead_. But Tony couldn’t say it. “Do something!”

 

Strange finally glared at Tony, standing and grabbing him roughly by the collar. He stood, dragging Tony to his feet along with him.

 

“You need to let me work.“ He snarled. “The baby’s alive. I’m not a miracle worker. And I definitely can’t help with you whining at me every few seconds. Get out.”

 

For a second Tony felt blind with fury. He hated everything. He hated Strange for not being able to promise to save Peter. He hated Wade for getting him pregnant and putting him in danger in the first place. He even hated the pink squalling baby for hurting him in its fight to be born. But mostly, Tony hated himself. He had never felt so useless in the face of catastrophe before.

 

Tony turned and left.

 

All three of their hosts sat at the table upstairs. They all wore similar expressions of concern and anticipation, but their faces changed when they caught sight of Tony. Clint blanched, Natasha went very still, and Bruce’s face fell.

 

Tony was suddenly aware that he was still smeared with blood. Peter’s blood. From when he’d held back his leg. Tony swallowed hard a few times, trying to think of what to say to these expectant people.

 

“Baby’s ok.” He finally croaked. He felt some of the tension immediately dissipate. They sat with the news for a moment before Bruce finally, hesitantly, broke the silence.

 

“Peter?”

 

Tony felt like he couldn’t breathe. He tried to swallow again, but he couldn’t. It felt like trying to swallow around a stone lodged in his throat. He couldn’t speak. It was anger that made him shake. It had to be.

 

“I don’t-- know.” Tony’s voice cracked. He turned away. He didn’t want them to see. There was already so much crying downstairs. He couldn’t give in to it too. He tried to breathe through the urge, but his eyes were blurring. He felt like he might be sick, or maybe faint, but instead when he opened his mouth, it all seemed to tumble out. “I don’t know. God, I don’t know!”

 

Tony clapped his hands over his mouth, but it didn’t do any good. He was crying. Sobbing like a little kid. It felt like a bad dream. He could be dying. After everything, after wheedling his way into Tony’s broken heart, after fighting together and surviving together, after the promises Tony had made to himself to keep them safe - Peter could be dying. He could be dying and his last hours would have been spent in agony. He could become just another person that Tony couldn’t save.

 

Tony jerked away from the hand that came down on his shoulder, but Natasha squeezed and hung on. She gently steered him to the table and pushed him into a seat. He could hardly see through his tears but he heard the soft thump of something being set down in front of him.

 

“Drink.” That was Bruce. Tony shook his head, taking deep shaky breaths to try to calm himself.

 

“Drink,” Bruce insisted. “It’s been a long few days for you too.”

 

Tony wanted to slap he drink away. What the hell was his hard day in the face of his kid fucking dying and- oh god, Peter was so fucking young, it wasn’t fair!

 

He didn’t slap it away. They were only trying to help. Tony took small sips of the water obediently. He was about halfway done before Clint spoke up.

 

“We should go downstairs. See what’s happening.”

 

“No!” Tony startled himself with how loudly he snapped, but he couldn’t do it. His heart had started hammering at the idea. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t go back to that scene of Peter looking so fucking pale, of Wade torn between fear and grief, of the smell of so much blood. He couldn’t face it. “I can’t.”

 

“Yes, you can.” Natasha was stern. She folded her arms over her chest. Tony opened his mouth to argue - she didn’t understand- But she cut him off. “If this is the last chance you get, you don’t want to miss it.”

 

Tony’s blood ran cold, but he stood. He already knew how it felt to miss the chance to say goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can’t believe we are wrapping up today! If you haven’t already, please remember to chime in on what you’d like to read next.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, do you guys prefer having the whole fic posted at once or chapter by chapter?


	16. 15. Riley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family welcomes its newest addition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Strange is supposed to have all kinds of music trivia up his sleeve but we are gonna say there was a lack of music-listening resources in his post-apocalyptic life

The room still smelled of blood when they entered, but it was no longer cloying, and it was mixed with the pungent bitter smell of Strange’s herbs. The doctor had draped a blanket over Peter’s lower half, presumably for his modesty.

 

It was quieter now than when Tony had left. Strange was no longer barking instructions, Peter had stopped screaming hours ago, and Wade was no longer crying. Even the baby had quieted, having latched onto a breast to nurse. The Alpha was crouched low over Peter and the baby, his hands stroking over both with the utmost tenderness.

 

He glanced up when the party entered.

 

“Who is it?”

 

Tony’s brain seemed to stall. It was barely more than a whisper, but Tony knew it was Peter’s exhausted voice. He was awake. The possibility hadn’t occurred to Tony. He’d been bracing himself for the sight of Peter’s still silent face. He hadn’t prepared for this. His knees felt suddenly weak.

 

“It’s Tony and the rest.” Wade said just as quietly. “Should I tell them to leave?”

 

“Tony?” He couldn’t tell what tone Peter said it in. Maybe he was too tired to manage any inflection at all. Tony approached anyway, kneeling close enough for Peter to see him without lifting his head.

 

“Hey, kiddo,” He croaked. Peter still looked ashen. His eyes were red and there were dark circles under them, but he smiled at Tony anyway.

 

“Hey.” He said, blinking slowly. “‘M sorry.”

 

“For what?” Tony felt his stomach flip. Was this a ‘goodbye’ type sorry or-

 

“Scared you.” Peter said and Tony couldn’t help a watery chuckle.

 

“It’s ok,” he reassured him.

 

“But you left.” Guilt tugged at Tony’s heart. He hadn’t thought Peter was going to wake up. He hadn’t thought it would be a problem for him to be conspicuously absent.

 

“Yeah, I had to talk to everyone.” Tony said apologetically. When Peter continued to look concerned, Tony added, “About the baby?”

 

“Oh yeah,” Peter’s face broke into a genuine smile, seeming to smooth some of the fatigue from his features. He reached to touch the infant still nursing at his chest. “I had a baby.”

 

Tony couldn’t help but laugh again at the near-disbelief in Peter’s voice. “Yes, you did.”

 

“Did you see him yet?” Peter asked eagerly, as though Tony could have missed it.

 

“Yep. He’s beautiful,” Tony assured him, surprised to find that he meant it. “He looks completely tuckered out. Just like his dad.”

 

“You should rest some more, Pete,” Wade tried to coax him. Peter gave a faint shake of his head.

 

“Can’t.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“He’ll fall off if I don’t hold him.” Peter said seriously. It took Tony a moment to process before realizing Peter genuinely thought the baby would fall off his chest, even in a room full of people, even though the infant was too little to even roll over on its own. Wade laughed softly.

 

“He won’t. I’ve got him.” Wade assured him.

 

“Promise?”

 

“Yeah, I promise. I won’t let him fall.”

 

Finally, Peter sighed, appeased. It took less than a minute for the kid to fall asleep, but this time, Tony felt sure he would wake up again. The baby followed not long after.

 

With both soundly asleep, their hosts gathered closer to look at the newest addition to the household. Wade beamed at them proudly, a hand on the infant’s back, as promised. Soon, however, even he began to blink slowly.

 

“Can you hold him?” Wade finally asked, when it became obvious that he wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes open much longer. Tony balked, but at the expectant looks from those around him, gingerly agreed.

 

Wade carefully scooped the baby off Peter’s chest and settled him gently into Tony’s arms. Tony couldn’t help but hold his breath as Wade adjusted his grip until he was satisfied that the baby was entirely supported. Once secure in the knowledge that the baby had at least four pairs of eyes to watch it, Wade settled beside Peter and was out almost as quickly.

 

Tony stepped away from the couple to give them at least a little space. Bruce, Clint, and Natasha pulled closer. They stroked the baby’s head, his little hands, with almost the same reverence as the kid’s parents. They were spellbound.

 

“He’s so small,” Clint marveled. “Nat, I want one.”

 

“Take it up with Bruce. You know I can’t.” She told him. It might have been flippant, but even Tony could catch the hint of regret in her voice. Clint turned expectantly to Bruce.

 

“Uh, ask again later,” the Omega said, obviously taken aback.

 

The trio stayed a few minutes longer to admire the baby before retreating back upstairs under the guise of giving the new family space.

 

The room hadn’t been loud before, but it felt very quiet now that he and Strange were the only ones awake. Remembering the way Strange had thrown him out of the room, Tony turned away from him, embarrassed, and focused on the baby instead.

 

It really was very small. The thing had seemed huge when it was being born, but now the little creature seemed impossibly tiny. How could such a little thing survive on its own outside the womb?

 

The baby smelled sweet. Most children had a sweet neutral sort of smell to them before they presented, but the baby was softer. Almost like warm milk, Tony thought.

 

He hadn’t lied when he told Peter it was beautiful, but he didn’t think he could really qualify it as cute. It’s skin, which had been so pale during delivery, was bright pink now, almost like it had been rubbed raw in the process of being born. And it still didn’t look like it’s skin quite fit its body, oddly loose in places, wrinkly around it’s knees and elbows.

 

Tony had hated this thing, he realized with a rush of shame. He’d been blaming every problem they encountered on its impending arrival. But it was so little and I t smelled faintly of Peter. Because it kind of was Peter, he thought, a little piece of Peter.

 

“Hey there, little one,” he said softly. “You made it.”

 

—

 

Tony eventually replaced the baby on Peter’s chest. Wade had slung an arm over Peter’s stomach, creating the perfect place to cradle the kid and keep him from rolling off, as Peter was so worried about. Tony didn’t think babies that little even had the strength to roll themselves over, but far be it from him to contradict the freshly minted parents. He dozed himself for some time, though he couldn’t say how much.

 

They were reawoken some time later by the baby working up to tears again. Tony sat up, watching as the new parents blinked at the infant with apparent shock, melting into bewilderment and then euphoria. Peter struggled to sit up, wincing. Wade helped pull him upright and continued supporting him as he again brought the child to his breast.

 

“Oh my god, this is so weird,” Peter breathed, watching the baby intently. “You were inside me. And now you’re not. Oh my god, Wade, look, he’s got little toes and eyelashes and fingernails.”

 

“Yeah,” Wade sighed, looking absolutely besotted. “Little ears. All the little folds where they’re supposed to be and stuff. How did you make all those details, Petey? He’s perfect.”

 

Tony watched the pair marvel at the baby while he nursed until he had finished and began fussing again. Wade helped Peter lie down again, this time on his side with the baby in front of him.

 

“Ugh, feels like I got hit by a truck,” Peter complained. “Let’s not do that again any time soon.”

 

Wade settled, mirroring Peter’s position on the other side of the baby.

 

“Don’t worry, babe,” he grinned, “Next time, I’ll carry it for you.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Peter chuckled, “What makes you so sure there will be a next time? We haven’t even named this one yet.”

 

They fell silent long enough that Tony began to wonder if he should leave. He’d been staying in case Peter had wanted him there when he woke, but he seemed more stable now.

 

“Tony? Any ideas?” Peter asked, just as Tony started to move to leave.

 

“Uh.” Tony was caught entirely by surprise. He tried to rack his brain for any name that didn’t also bring up painful memories. “Jarvis?”

 

Wade laughed.

 

“Sounds like a butler,” he teased, “What about Ben? We could name him after your uncle.”

 

Tony barely bit back the question. Peter had never mentioned parents, he realized, just an aunt. And now, apparently, an uncle. It was odd to be reminded again how little he really knew about Peter.

 

Peter seemed to consider the name more seriously than Tony’s suggestion, but ultimately shook his head.

 

“No, if he wanted to change it later I’d be too sad and that’s not really fair since it’s not like he gets a say in his name now.” He said, a little glum. “Maybe something more neutral or ambiguous? So if he turns out not to be a boy the name can still fit?”

 

“What about Morgan?” Tony offered.

 

“That’s not bad,” Peter mused.

 

“We could name him after May,” Wade said, only for Peter to nudge him in annoyance.

 

“That’s not very neutral.”

 

“Hey, any name can work for any gender if you decide it can,” Wade defended himself. Peter rolled his eyes. True or not, other people would still find it feminine.

 

“Yeah, well, it still has the same attachment issues,” Peter sniffed. He paused, contemplating. “You know, her last name used to be Riley. Before she decided she wanted Ben’s name.”

 

“Riley?” Wade repeated the name testing it out. “Oh man, that’s cute. Can we go with that?”

 

Peter nodded and Wade bent over to press his nose against the baby’s cheek. “How’s that sound to you lil Ri-loo? Ri-loo, Ri-lah, Ri-lay?”

 

The baby - Riley - sneezed.

 

—

 

Strange was bent over a piece of paper when Tony approached him. He sat at the kitchen table with an untouched cup of tea in front of him, carefully writing something out.

 

He didn’t flinch when Tony approached but he didn’t acknowledge him either, so Tony peered over his shoulder. Strange’s handwriting was absolute chicken scratch, but it fell in neat lines across the page so the layout at least was easy to read.

 

It was a record of the baby, Tony realized. He’d left space to write down the father and the sire, the date and time of its birth (which shocked Tony that anyone still knew what year it was), the baby’s weight and length… at the top of the page, he’d written ‘Riley’ but had left the space for a surname blank. Tony didn’t think Peter and Wade had decided that yet. Tony gave a little snort.

 

“The kid is gonna have three last names and no first name,” he smirked. Strange carefully capped his pen and set it aside. Tony was again afforded a glimpse of Strange’s hands and wondered if his abysmal handwriting was a product of being a doctor or whether the scars had affected the way he held a pen.

 

Strange looked up at him wordlessly. Tony took the seat across from him without asking and Strange didn’t protest. The man looked exhausted, Tony thought.

 

“Can you read?” He asked after a moment. Tony nodded. “Good, I’m going to leave you some instructions on what to expect over the next few days.”

 

“You’re not staying?” Tony was surprised by the sudden disappointment he felt at the idea. Strange stilled.

 

“I did not think… you wanted me to.” He said slowly. It was an odd way to phrase it: not the new parents, not the people who owned the house - Tony. It stirred something in his chest, though he could not identify what.

 

“I do. Want you to stay.” He said haltingly. He thought of amending the statement - to stay to care for Peter and the baby, to stay to help them, to stay so they could repay him - but in the end the excuses fell flat.

 

“Oh.” Strange didn’t meet his eyes but he seemed… pleased. He was difficult to read.

 

“And thank you,” Tony blurted out. That was originally why he’d come upstairs to look for the doctor. Strange looked up at him, brow furrowed. Tony cleared his throat. “You- I think you saved them.”

 

“I told you, I’m not a miracle worker,” Strange said quietly, dropping his gaze again. “They had it in them to live. I didn’t make that happen.”

 

“You did,” Tony said firmly. “Even though I was being an ass, even though we haven’t got anything to give you, you still helped them.”

 

“It’s your kid, Tony. I get being protective.” Something about that sent a sort of shiver down his spine. It might have been the first time Strange called him by name, he realized.

 

“Well, you saved my kid. That’s not nothing to me. I won’t forget.” Tony promised. “So… thank you.”

 

Strange stared at him for what seemed like a long time before he nodded.

 

“You’re welcome, then.”

 

—

 

At four days old Riley only seemed capable of three things: eating, sleeping, and crying. And pooping. So four things. It didn’t seem to matter though: the infant didn’t really need to do anything to capture their hearts.

 

“I would literally die for you,” Tony had told the baby once when he’d taken a turn to hold him.

 

“Please don’t.” Peter grimaced from where he was curled up on the floor.

 

Much to his chagrin, Peter had been forced to let the others hold Riley more often when the cramping set in.

 

“No one told me about this!” He’d complained.

 

“You knew that the womb shrinks back to its normal size after delivery. How did you think it happened?” Strange had taken up a post in one corner of Wade and Peter’s room and he spent most of his time there, keeping a watchful eye over the proceedings.

 

“Not like this,” Peter grumbled. Tony felt bad for the kid - it was obviously painful - but since it was normal, non-lethal, and didn’t dampen Peter’s spirits too badly, Tony felt free to keep his attention mostly on little Riley.

 

“‘M gonna make you some little mittens,” he cooed to the baby. “Some soft little rabbit mittens. Keep your fingers nice and toasty, make sure you don’t scratch yourself too bad.”

 

“Like the song?” Wade asked from his place beside Peter. He was rubbing his mate’s back to try to ease some of the cramping, but it only helped so much.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“The song.” Wade immediately launched into the rhyme unprompted, “Bye, baby bunting, Daddy’s gone a-hunting, to catch a little rabbit skin, to wrap his baby bunting in!”

 

“So you do know some kids’ songs,” Peter smirked, triumphantly. “Now you have no excuse.”

 

“Aw, come on, babe,” Wade whined, “He loves the songs I usually sing him!”

 

“He’s less than a week old, I don’t think he can remember what songs you usually sing him.”

 

“Nuh-uh, remember when he was being a little tumbleweed and keeping you up at night? He always calmed right down after some good ol’ Beach Boys.”

 

“What are Beach Boys?” Strange asked from his corner, his intensely furrowed brow coupled with his serious tone sent Peter and Wade into peels of laughter on the floor. Riley gave a half-shriek, as though he were about to start crying, but seemed to think better of it and fell quiet again.

 

“You know,” Wade said when he caught his breath, beginning to sing again, “Ba ba ba ba Barbara Ann! Ba ba ba ba Barbara Ann!”

 

In Tony’s arms, Riley wriggled. He couldn’t tell if it was in response to his sire’s voice or if the baby was just trying to get comfortable, but he was willing to give Wade the benefit of the doubt. Just this once.

 

\--

 

Dinner had been moved from the table upstairs down to Peter and Wade’s room. Part of it was so that Peter didn’t have to attempt the stairs, but it was just as much because their hosts wanted to see the new baby as anything else. As a result, all eight of them (including Riley), sat in a rough circle on Peter and Wade’s floor for evening meals.

 

“Come on, Bruce, don’t you think it would be cute? Can’t you just picture Nat teaching a little baby how to throw a punch? A little kid with my nose and your eyes and Nat’s ‘take-no-prisoners’ attitude?”

 

“Sounds like a menace,” Bruce smirked.

 

“A cute menace!” Clint insisted. Even after several days, the novelty of the newborn still hadn’t worn off for Clint - or any of them really - nor did Tony expect it too.

 

“Uh, speaking of being a menace,” Peter interrupted sheepishly. “I know we only really talked about us staying until the baby got here and, uh, here he is. I don’t want to impose on you guys even more, so, um, should we… leave?”

 

“No.” Strange barked at him from across the circle. As Strange was neither part of Peter’s immediate family nor one of the owners of the house, the exclamation was initially greeted with surprised silence. Strange nodded at Natasha, not even bothering to look apologetic, “Sorry, but if you let them leave after everything we did to keep them alive, I am never treating any of you again. That was too much effort to let it go to waste like that.”

 

Strange stopped himself abruptly, glancing surprisingly at Tony as he did so, before shoving a large bite of food in his mouth to keep from having to speak more.

 

“We weren’t going to,” Natasha told him, voice halfway between amused and annoyed.

 

“Yeah, you’re nuts if you think you’re going anywhere, kid,” Clint agreed happily.

 

“At least until you are all back to square one in terms of your strength.” Bruce nodded. “It’s only been a few days. You still need more rest.”

 

“And we still need to figure out why Weapon X has been spying on us,” Wade added quietly, face grim. “I don’t want to go out in the open again until we know what their deal is.”

 

“Looks like you’re outnumbered, Pete,” Tony said smugly, slapping a hand over Peter’s shoulder.

 

“I was just asking, jeeze. No need to gang up on me.” Peter rolled his eyes, but he was smiling nonetheless. “This is bullying. Wade, I’m being bullied.”

 

“Sorry, babe, guess you’re just gonna have to get used to it.”

 

End Part 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit that’s it guys! Thank you for riding this emotional rollercoaster with me! Thanks to everyone who read and commented, kudos’d, or bookmarked. Your encouragement does not go unnoticed!

**Author's Note:**

> All chapters already complete: updates Sundays and Thursdays


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